Our souls collided before we met by Blackdawn & perfumedrose
by PerfumedRose
Summary: AU. Mycroft and Greg met briefly when Mycroft was fresh out MI6 training and involved with fieldwork, Greg was a constable on patrol duty. The meeting was instantaneous and even though they didn't speak, the memory made a deep impact on Mycroft. When Mycroft gets injured and lands in a coma his mind builds a world around those brown eyes. When he wakes up, he needs to face the re
1. Chapter 1

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 1**

 **Chapter 1**

 **A fateful meeting.**

 _Note to the reader: on 3th January 1993 USA and Russia signed in Moscow the ratification of bilateral treaty on the Reduction and Limitation of Strategic Offensive Arms, named START II -_

The air was crisp, the winter bite still strong with the prospect of snow in the weather forecast. The private jet landed on the airstrip the wheels screeching loudly in the cold air. There was no one to meet the plane or its occupants, as the plane, with the airport and the time was all classified as top secret. Privacy valued. In short, there was no landing. The jet came to a standstill and four people stepped out, three men and one woman. All three of them were British citizens, with no passports and no extra luggage. The only identification was the code names: Antarctica, Grey, Love and Sheffield. Antarctica was the last to leave, looking at the sky around him then back at the newspapers on a forgotten chair inside the airport. His eyes glanced at the date: 5 January 1993.

They were glad to be back on home soil, the mission in Moscow still fresh on their mind. They met other agents, from both Russia and Americans, negotiations for more treaties on a deeper level of secrecy. The four of them didn't glance at each other as they made their way to the four awaiting cars. Unbeknownst to them there was a mole amongst them. And it would cost them dearly.

Mycroft Holmes put his coat over his suit, taking the last of his belongings from his office locker, his wallet in his coat, the keys to his home in the other and picking up his small travellers bag he closed the locker with a soft click.

He took a deep breath before he left the room and the building. This week, the entire mission has been stressful, as always negotiations were tough especially with the Russians and Americans trying to outdo the other with biting remarks.

He longed for his home, his shower with endless hot water, he longed for his shampoo and luxurious soap with their distinct scent and chemicals to smooth his skin. He was tired of the plain soap and plain shampoo in the safe house in Moscow.

He made his was down the street thinking about his life and the mission. Already at the age of twenty-four he has accomplished much, he has been an MI6 agent since he was twenty and in Oxford. He loved his job, he loved the sense of power it gave him, his superiors were already impressed with his work, the way he easily and flawlessly handles stressful situations, the way he can detached from anyone, focus on the job at hand. He received his codename in the first month of work. Mycroft realised early on that stress was like fuel in his veins, the adrenaline like oxygen in his body, boosting him. It was wonderful. He may not be the biggest fan of the field but it was a wonderful foundation for the great future he will have in this career he had chosen.

He walked half a block to the nearest spot for the busses and taxis. He wouldn't dare to take a bus, a cab on the other hand, does sound a lot better than walking. The only thing he wanted to do was go home, he had enough of people.

The busses were all gone and the taxi's as well, all but one. The cabdriver was standing outside, his door half open and he was smoking a cigarette. He was talking animatedly to another man, a cop. One glance told him, the man was a Constable.

He was always able to read people and deduce, and his skills just improved since his training, so he was able to glance at both men and already now a lot about them both. The Constable was handsome, in fact he was very attractive, comfortable in his body, his smile and laughter was bright and contagious and Mycroft's mouth turned into a smile, he didn't knew what they were talking about, but seeing this man laugh, made him want to smile too. He was a few inches shorter than Mycroft, but he had long legs, strong, he obviously runs a lot.

Mycroft took a step closer and heard the cabbie call him 'Greg' Mycroft liked that, he looked like a man who needs a strong name like Greg, he bets it is short for Gregory.

Mycroft must have been more tired than he initially realized because when he looked at the man again, he was staring back, his head slightly tilted. The cabbie was still talking but Mycroft could feel the man was focused on him now. It was a bit disconcerting. Mycroft stared back which was a mistake, the man had the most expressive brown eyes he had ever seen. He always thought brown eyes were a bit boring, it was brown, dark brown or light, nothing spectacular but this man was taking that notion and smashing it. It was like liquid caramel and chocolate swirling around a black pupil surrounded by a layer of lashes, protecting the brown irises. It was mesmerising.

"Hey lad, want a ride?" The cabbie broke through his thoughts and he turned to him.

"Yes please, are you available?" He could see in his peripheral vision, the man's eyebrows rising at his reply.

"Sure laddie, get in." The cabbie turned to Greg. "Chat later hey, and congrats again." Greg just nodded and stepped back as he watch the young man and driver get into the car, his eyes on the man. Mycroft didn't dare to look at him again, instead keeping his eyes in front of him as the car reversed and drove off. Greg stepped back into the road, watching the car disappearing into the streets.

It was only when the car stopped at the first traffic light that Mycroft took his first deep breath, he didn't even realize his breathing was swallow and by the sound of it, he even skipped a few beats. It was strange, something he never had experienced before, an unfamiliar feeling that he couldn't dissect as much as he wanted to.

Greg was happy, this was his last week on the streets from next week Constable Gregory Lestrade is Sergeant Gregory Lestrade. Yes, the man got promoted to the Criminal Investigation Department. The CID, Sgt Lestrade from the CID, it even has a nice ring to it. He did it all of that at the age of twenty-seven, but he is hard working and driven; if he keeps it up he will be a detective before his 40th birthday.

That put a smile on his face and even though he met some great people on the street, and some good friends, he would miss them but ultimately it will still be the same streets they live in, the same streets he vowed to protect, he would just do it in a different capacity.

Johnnie was a cab driver and he and Greg had got to know each other well over these past few years.

They got talking about the future and his career when this young man stepped up. He was tall, the three piece suit looking spectacular on him, even at that young age. His hair was ginger, with hints to a dark auburn, it was; well to be honest, sexy as hell to Greg. He had a small duffle bag and the most surprisingly was that he was twirling an umbrella. The best part was when their eyes met to Greg it was something out of a film, it was as if time slowed down and the man was staring through him, burning through his eyes right into his soul. It was eternal; it was as if he was marked, in a good way.

By the time he got his mouth in working order to talk to the man, the young man was already in the cab. Johnnie was saying something about seeing him later but he didn't really hear. He watched as the cab reversed and drove off, he stepped out into the street; somehow feeling as if was making some kind of mistake.

By the time Mycroft arrived home Greg was firmly planted in his mind, it didn't matter how hard he tried he just couldn't shake the image. Once inside he felt great again, the feeling of being home in his own sanctuary comforted him. It did. It was his place, private and secluded and no need for masks and pretence.

He didn't even bother with opening curtains downstairs in his living room, the housekeeper can do that. He was so preoccupied with thoughts of showering and having a nice long nap that he didn't even register the slight draft of the curtains moving in the corner. Evidence of a half open balcony door instead he just climbed up the stairs to his bedroom.

Emptying his entire bag into the laundry basket he put out some casual clothes on the bed. The bathroom was big and inviting and he turned the tap, the hot water steaming the bathroom up immediately. Mycroft quickly undressed and got in the shower. Feeling his body relaxes under the hot spray, he allowed himself to relax; he had a gruelling few days and he is aware of the mole, he is not supposed to, yet he is. Washing his hair he forced himself to stop thinking about work, to stop thinking about anything and just relax and clear his mind, which is a problem because every time he closed his eyes, he would see a pair of brown eyes. He briefly wondered what would've happened if he spoke the man, ask about his day, way he was so happy since his laugh was so carefree and joyous.

No.

He opened his eyes. He can't think of that, he needs to focus on his career on the mission; he does not have time to indulge in brown-eyed boys and fantasies like that. He quickly washed and got out the shower.

He looked in the bathroom mirror, what if he just finds out the man's last name, or maybe why he was so happy. He shouldn't, but what harm can it do?

He quickly dressed and put the towel back in the bathroom. The moment he stepped out of his room, he sensed something was wrong. The hair on the back of his neck was rising and he could feel it, he wasn't alone. He had two choices go back in his bedroom and lock the door, calling for help or he must try to get downstairs where his weapon was, and get help.

The decision was taken out of his hands when the moment he turned he felt the sharp pain. His hand grabbed it, it was a small dart. Pulling it out he tried to get back to his room when he saw the figure coming down the hallway, he tried to look up, but his eyes were blurry, the last thing he remembered was the impact on the side of his head. The bastard drugged him and hit him over the head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 1**

 **Chapter 2**

 **A life alternating event**

On his way home Greg kept thinking about the boy he saw. The suit, the umbrella, the auburn hair that would have a ginger sheen when caught in the sunlight. He had blue eyes that felt like laser lights into his brain, as if struck within him and refused to let go. He had the strangest feeling that that man, those eyes will haunt him for a long time.

He was so in thought that when he stepped out of the station he walked nearly into a young man. Greg looked up. 'Oh fuck. Peter.' He glanced around but there was no escape, he really should've paid more attention. Peter looked at Greg, a small smile on his face, the cigarette dangling between the lips.

"Hey so shift over?" Greg looked around before starting to walk down the street. Peter started to follow.

"Yeah, so what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at work?" Peter walked next to Greg, his hands in his pocket trying to keep them warm from the cold.

"Yeah, but I uh…you know…wanted to talk to you…about last night…" Greg stopped walking and turned to look at Peter who stopped as well, they moved to the side of the pavement so other people can walk past. Greg ran his head through his hair, pulling on the ends in frustration.

"Peter, we already talked about it, anyhow it was four days ago, there's nothing new to say, it was good but it is over." Greg could hear the frustration in his voice.

"Two years Greg, we have been together for like two years, and then all of a sudden you tell me it's over, we had something man." Greg lit up a new cigarette, he really wished for pub now.

"Yes, but we agreed nothing serious, and it was never official, now we both want other things in life, you are an accountant starting at a new firm and I'm moving to CID, our priorities isn't the same anymore, we will just prolong the inevitable, and you said yourself, the new firm doesn't look too kindly on 'our types'.

It may be the nineties but homophobia is still strong and Greg knew, even in the police force he had to be extremely careful, he and Peter had fights about it all the time. Now they're moving into new directions in life, it is better to cut the losses and move on.

"Yeah man I know, but New Year's?"

"Would Christmas have worked better? Or your birthday, or mine? The fact is Peter, there never really is a right time for a relationship to end, we should just move on."

"But we can still try!" Peter yelled and several people turned their heads, neither cared.

"I don't want to!" Greg yelled back. He held out his hands in surrender.

"It's over okay, finished and done. Let's just accept that and get the fuck on with our lives." Peter pushed Greg against the wall.

"Fine arsehole." He shouted and stormed off. Greg sighed deeply and made his way to his flat, he slammed the door close with a loud "fuck" followed by a few softer exclamations of anger. He shouldn't have been surprised by Peter's visit, although they weren't serious, two years is a bit of long time for a relationship to just end so abruptly but the truth is that they both knew it wasn't going to last, it was just all young fun, and maybe they weren't so young anymore, but the fact remains, a gay accountant and bi cop is not going to make it far in their careers, maybe twenty years from now, or even more, but the ignorance and hatred is still way too strong.

Also, Peter is not really what Greg was looking for in his life at the moment, the idea of a partner is all good and well but in the end, he needs to focus on his career and he not about to play with people and their emotion, nor make commitments he won't be able to uphold. His love and happiness now is with the CID, frankly he never thought he'd be so happy with the prospect of murder, but that is something he is not going to crack his head open too much on.

With the silence a bit much he switched on the radio and lit up a new cigarette. Falling on the sofa he listened to the song playing on the radio, singing along with a loud voice.

" _I don't care if Monday's blue  
Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too  
Thursday I don't care about you  
It's Friday, I'm in love.._

People are so easy to play the love card, but Greg isn't like that, he didn't love Peter, he liked him, he was in love, but when it comes down to it, he didn't love him enough to sacrifice his life and career, nor put it on the back side. That lead to a whole new set of questions that Greg wasn't prepared to answer. Questions like is there someone out there that would awake those feelings of a love so strong that he would be able to say he was a cop, a Sergeant, hell even a Detective one day and is in a relationship with this person, man or woman? Would put him in the position to commit to them and do everything in his power to uphold that promise? Closing his eyes in an attempt to stop thinking and clearing his mind his mind betrayed him and showed him two eyes, so blue, so beautiful it was imprinted in his eyelids.

He needs to find him, to talk to him; even if it is just to get a name…Johnnie might be able to help…

While Greg was lying on the sofa thinking of the man with the blue eyes, the interesting man somewhere that man was in a cage, waking up with a head full of a drug induced cloud, and dried blood on the back of his head. Blinkingly he tried to get up, but couldn't, the cage was too low, he looked around to his surroundings. It was a dark room with a flickering fluorescent light in the corner, there was two more cages in the room, on his right. He crawled on shaking legs to the end of his cage to see who was in the other cages. There were two figures, both unconscious. He kept blinking to get used to the dark and to clear his head. His eyes widen in shock, the figure in the cage next to him was a woman, a blonde, and it was Love, his colleague.

He looked more intently to the other cage, it was Sheffield. He sat back on his arse, running his hands through his hair.

Well, that answers the question on which the mole is.

With three of the four in cages, it can only be Grey, but why would he? They all have the same information, they all did the same mission, which meant, somewhere there's an anomaly, something different.

Grey is obviously under the impression that one of them has information that he doesn't, that he can use, but what for? Mycroft took a breath and his eyes widen in realization. Money…It's always about money and in this industry, the one-eyed man is king.

The person with the most valuable information, the one who can sell it to the highest bidder, that man is the ruler of the moment.

Mycroft sat back with his head resting against the steel poles of the cage. He hardly felt it pushing into his back, his focus on the puzzle at hand.

Grey thinks – no knows - that one of them is in possession of valuable information, that is the only way he would risk kidnapping all three of them at once. He is sure of himself and that is why they are here, the question now is, exactly what information he is after and who has it? He knows, that he, himself is in possession of names and information he technically is not supposes too, they think him to young but he is smart, he can make the necessary deductions.

He wonders if they will survive long enough before they are found, if they will be found in time.

"Ughhhh." Mycroft look to his side, Love is moving in her cage, she is coming to. Mycroft didn't move, he watched as she came to, looking around and then moved her body, stretching the muscles. She is a very good gymnast and is trying to keep her muscles from cramping, Mycroft thought that is actually a good idea, but he is no gymnast, so there is no way he would be able to pull of that moves, even in a cage.

"Antarctica?" Her voice was hoarse cracking through the dry air. He nodded and shifted closer.

"Yes. Sheffield is on your other side." She turned her head and saw him still unconscious.

"How long was I out for?"

"I'm not sure; I've been awake for about twenty minutes now." She nodded before sitting back in the corner.

"What a coincidence there's only three cages, yet we are four." Mycroft turned to her, impressed, she figured it and with one sentence conveyed exactly what Mycroft knew, she knew Grey betrayed them.

"Well about coincidences…the..."

"Universe is rarely so lazy." She finished for him, a smile on her lips. Mycroft rolled his eyes, he obviously said it one time too many, or she is a very good listener.

"Well at least I was able to have a very long bath before being kidnapped." Her voice was dry, but he could detect the worry, he watched her sit back in the corner closest to his side, trying to get comfortable. Mycroft followed her and sat back. Looks like they were all taken after a shower or bath. Efficient he'll give them that, nothing more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 1**

 **Chapter 3**

 **Searching**

Mycroft watched as Grey started walking around the table, his hands clasped behind his back. 'Oh great' he thought irritably, the villain monologue is about to begin, he so hate that part.

"Let's build a rapport; you have been unconscious for a total amount of two days, nearly three. Today is the third day."

"You had to make sure we are secure before you could start the torture." Mycroft responded in a flat tone.

"Yes, although I prefer interviewing."

Mycroft didn't reply and waited for Grey to speak again.

"What is the name of the undercover agent in Operation Smirnoff Ice?"

Ooh, so that is what it is all about, the Ice operation, he does not know the particulars of that Operation, but he knew they send in a well-seasoned agent. He has no idea what the name of the agents was except that it was woman. There is absolutely no way he is going to tell this man that, not even under duress. Grey walked around the far end of the table and went to stand in front of Mycroft.

"I don't know you and I both know we are not that far up in the system to be trusted with that information." It is true, they are not, and he is just cleverer than the rest of them.

Grey bends over so he could watch him.

"True, however I know, for a fact that you, Love or Sheffield know who it is, a document was left in the canteen the day before we went on our mission, and since it is only the four us who uses it, it is one of you." Mycroft frowned; he wasn't fond of the canteen as it was always open with snacks, food and drinks. Not good when he has a soft spot for something sweet, so he usually avoids it like a plague only going when he needs to. The rest of the time he is either in his room or reading or even brushing up his skills.

"And you think it is me?" He asked back, his tone flat.

"I don't know who it is, that's why you are all here."

"So it isn't me, can I go now?" Mycroft asked looking around, his face serious. He knows he isn't going anywhere but the first step is to get your interrogator to show his cards. Grey smiled.

"I'm not going to show you my cards, you clever man, I am however going to torture you and Love and Sheffield until I get my answer."

"What are you going to do once you have the name?" Mycroft was already mentally preparing himself for being tortured, it was inevitable, the only way now was to protect his mind from the onslaught, he might not protect his body, which is a shame, he worked hard to be in shape, but still, the mind is more important. It is a very good thing he has a well advanced Mind Palace that would allow him to block certain parts of his mind. The gender of the agent first.

"Well, let's just say I got myself into something and this can be my ticket out." Mycroft would've rolled his eyes if he could. Probably gambling money and he wants to sell it to the highest bidder. This is exactly why he hates legwork, he was counting the days until he could do what he do best and do it in the shadows.

"I'm not going to talk Grey; you should know it beforehand."

"Oh, we'll see about that. The question now is, do you prefer me to beat you up, which we both know I'm very good in skilled combat or do I tell the boys you're some sissy who hates to get his hands dirty and also a faggot?" Mycroft didn't flinch, he knew from the beginning that an kidnapper will say anything to scare you, but he also know Grey would make good on his word, either one of those threats. He straightened his back in the chair.

"I won't tell you anything."

Greg stared at the small paper in his fingers; pursing his lips together he gave a sigh.

' _A love story is like a canvas, it's up to you finding the right colours to paint it.'_

"That's just great, so are you going to give me the paint? Any other bright ideas?" He asked aloud, the paper remained silent. Folding it in half he ate the chocolate kiss. Apparently, even the chocolate think he needs to do something about a certain situation.

It has been three days and the tall ginger at the cab was still on his mind, no other person has ever haunted him like that, one look into those eyes and he was hooked like an fish with the most amazing bait ever. He should've talked to him, even if it was to get a name. A number too, if he was very lucky. Scrunching the chocolate kiss foil in a tiny ball he threw it away, putting his anger and frustration in that little ball. He was known for the man who could charm, who could say something in any situation, yet, that moment his brain seize to form words.

He knew he had to find him, but how? London is very big with a lot of men on its streets, how to find one?

"Think." He chastised himself.

"You want to be a detective, and a good one, detect!" A few strangers looked at him with alarm and he just smiled and walked down the pavement. Even the chocolate is telling him to do something. He turned around the corner and saw the always there black cabs driving down the street. His mouth fell open. Idiot.

"Johnnie." With a renewed spring in his step he made his way to his friend. Johnnie would know at least more than he does, an address, a name, something for him to work with.

The first punch was expected, Mycroft could see it in Grey's eyes, that he wants the opportunity to hurt Mycroft, to be the one to break the Ice-Man. The force knocked him off his chair. He fell with a groan on the floor, it was cold. The skin above his eye split open and a few drops of blood dripped to the floor. Mycroft had a feeling this was only the beginning, he was going to lose a lot more blood.

To make sure he doesn't go anywhere, Grey picked up Mycroft's leg and placed it against the table, and using the chair he combined the force to break his leg, both bones just above the ankle. Mycroft cried out in pain. He expected punches, he expected a beating, and then later on, broken bones, this was too quick. He wasn't going to drag this out. He couldn't his mind informed him, they are already looking for them; he has limited time, so he must act quickly. Taking deep breaths he looked at his leg, it was a clean break, his leg was already started to swell, and it was going to be very difficult to move.

Grey looked at Mycroft a smile on his face.

"As you probably figured out, being all clever and smart, I don't have much time, so I need to be quick and efficient. It is a real shame that you won't tell me what you know." Mycroft stared at him, not speaking; he was focusing on keeping his breathing natural. Grey stepped closer and grabbed him by the broken leg, his hand tight around the ankle, Mycroft yelled out in pain, the scream echoing in the bareness of the room. Grey dragged him to the side of the room to a door; he opened it and went inside. His mind deduced that this is where the torture is taking place, it was tiled like a bathroom, with a drain in the middle, metal bars was placed across the roof, with the chains hanging down. It looked like something out of a horror movie. Grey let go of his leg and Mycroft was so happy for the moment of rest that he missed when Grey grabbed the chains hanging and locking his hands in them. He tried to resist, but it was too late, by the time he was able to focus he was hanging by his arms, resting on his legs, or leg to be precise, the broken one just hanging in a limp fashion. He was high enough that it stretches his body, but not enough to be fully suspended in the air; he could stand flat on his feet, or foot.

He was taking deep unsteady breaths, his nostrils flaring as he tried to calm his breathing.

Grey walked around him, a small scalpel in his hand. Mycroft looked up and saw the metals and knives, the hooks and spears all neatly against the wall.

"Oh, I won't be using that, it is so cliché, don't you think?" Mycroft didn't answer, it was and an answer that wouldn't earn him points anyhow. He wanted to know where Love was, and Sheffield, are they also being tortured at the moment, or waiting their turn. Maybe Love has already been tortured, she was taken first.

The biggest question he has now was if Grey wasn't going to use the instruments, what is he planning with the scalpel?

He received his answer when Grey cut off his shirt, Mycroft hated being naked, or half naked in front of everyone and this is no exception. He worked hard to lose the weight he was carrying, but the evidence of the once stretch skin is still there. He doubts he will ever get rid of the rid lines over his stomach, maybe one day. Grey moved so he was very close to Mycroft his eyes roaming over Mycroft's naked torso and stomach. Turning the scalpel to the blunt side he ran it from the top his neck down to his navel.

"I saw pictures of you, before you started the training, when you carried some extra weight, and you worked real hard, but the past never truly escapes us does it?" Grey said as if he was speaking of something entirely different.

"I doubt my stretchmark's and your gambling debt falls in the same category, but you are right, the past has a way to catch up on us." Grey smiled wickedly before he stepped back, his hand replacing the blade as he touched him.

"You know, I was planning on beating the living crap out of you but then I remember this one biology class, you see I can cut and stab you, and it would hurt, but it would fade. I would cut through the skin and nerves and that would be it, one line, but if I were to remove the skin, that….would be excruciating. You see, you would rip through the nerves, separating the epidermis from the muscle, ripping the nerves in half and so on, and since you have stretch marks, do you think it will stretch again?"


	4. Chapter 4

Dear fellow readers.

As the tags suggest this is the chapter with the violence and the torture. Please be aware of it, and if you do not enjoy it – enjoy might be the wrong word – please skip the part.

Also, Daynaan and me are not torture experts, however we are creative ones, so the torture technique is made up, how factual it is, is not for me to decide, please remember this is fiction and not a documentary.

Anyway. Please enjoy the chapter.

Much love.

CrushedRose and Daynaan.

 **Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 1**

 **Chapter 4**

 **Crossroads**

Greg went to the cabs parking where he knew Johnnie would be, if not on a run. It was his day off, and was quite disappointed to find that Johnnie wasn't there yet, he would wait for him. After about four cigarettes and an hour and a half Greg saw Johnnie's car entering the parking. Not trying to look to eager to speak to him, he waited till Johnnie was standing next to him.

"Well well, isn't it our very own CID Sergeant!" Johnnie greeted with a huge smile and a clap on Greg's shoulder.

"Hi, Johnnie."

"So what can I do for you?"

"Good thanks, listen here, do you remember last time when we talked and then that posh man in his three piece suit asked for a ride?"

"The tall red head and great manners?" Greg smiled.

"Yeah him. Do you remember his name or last name, or anything that could help me find him?" Greg tried hard to keep his face neutral and his voice normal, he didn't want to sound overzealous. Johnnie looked off in the street as he tried to remember.

"Nah, sorry mate. Is it important?" 'Yes.'

"No no no, not really it is just you know, he looked familiar, like this one guy back at school and wanted to catch up you know."

"Oh, wait…I might have something." Johnnie turned back to his car and opened the door. Greg followed.

"Yeah?"

Johnnie held out a book.

"Well I have to sign every ride you see, time, dates and so forth, company thinks we're skipping on company time hey, bloody blood suckers…I tell you.."

"This is great thanks." Greg interrupted as he paged through to the date, his finger sliding down the page with names.

"Is this it?" Greg asked showing the book to Johnnie.

"Long Acre, Covent Garden. Yeah yeah, that's it, what a poncy neighbourhood I tell ya, was afraid of driving too loud." Greg smiled. He has it, an address.

"Thanks Johnnie, you're a lifesaver." Greg exclaimed as he started running down the street.

"Tell that to the missus!" Johnnie yelled after him, but he was long gone.

The pain tore through his skull begging for attention, for an explanation, but Mycroft couldn't give it. In fact he couldn't even give a coherent sentence. Grey did well on his promise, but instead of cutting the skin and removing it, which basically meant he was being skinned alive, he inserted six round metal bars, similar to the straws in sodas, just a bit bigger. He would guess about a centimetre in diameter, but since his mind was overflowing with pain, the correct number would be difficult to say. It was also hollow like straws, and that was where the real pain comes in. The metallic straws were pushed through his stomach under the skin, starting from below his nipples right down to his navel.

Grey inserted tubes through the straws and would alternate between either boiling hot water, or liquid nitrogen that would bubbled through the tubes into his flesh. On top of that the metal was hooked to a very low electric frequency, not enough to give him seizures and writhing in the current, but enough to double the effects of the cold nitrogen and hot water through the tubes. It was excruciating; if his flesh wasn't burned from the inside, his muscles were contracting in the cold.

His voice was hoarse from the yelling, he tried to keep it in, but couldn't. At least he hasn't given up the little information he had. He was weak, so weak, he lost a lot of blood with the inserting of the tubes, but the torture itself, with his broken leg was draining him from all the energy and mental power he possessed. Grey was very effective in utilizing the little time that was available to him. He must try to hold on, it will be over soon.

The liquid stopped, his stomach contracted and pulsated with the slow steady current.

'It stopped, it is almost over' his brain told him, but he didn't dare to get his hopes up. He slowly opened his eyes to look down at the damage, his skin was ruined, it was red with blisters in some places, the skin marked with dark spots where the liquid nitrogen became too cold and damaged the skin, it was in the correct terms frost bite. Stretch marks are the last thing he has to worry about ever again when it came to his stomach.

The current stopped as well, and his body felt the loss immediately.

"You really don't know anything do you?" Grey asked softly, his voice filled with genuine disbelief.

"The great Antarctica, the great analytical mind, clever beyond words and here you are nothing to share." Mycroft stared blankly at him, he didn't talk before, except for screaming, and he wasn't about to start now as well.

Grey stepped closer until he stood so close to Mycroft, his shirt touched the metal. He lifted his hand and with very slow movements he pulled the metal straw out. Wiggling it along as he pulled it. Mycroft groaned and screamed his body convulsing as it was pulled out. It felt like forever when Grey was done leaving Mycroft's body to shake lightly, it was the shock setting in. He released Mycroft's hands without supporting him, so that Mycroft fell on the floor in crumpled heap. Grey on purpose release his hands so that he would fell on his broken leg first, causing more damage. Mycroft yelled out, in pain, trying to clutch his leg, but his stomach kept him from bending. It was still bleeding out on the floor, some blisters burst and the water burn his skin and wounds as it run down. Grey watched Mycroft on the floor and walked to the door and opening it.

"Oi, I'm done with this one." He yelled and the same two men that brought him in, stepped into the room.

"Take him back to the cage; don't worry about being gentle, if he gives any trouble, mess up that pretty face." With barely a nod, they picked him up and carried him out. Grey watched as they carried him out.

"Well, let's see if Love is in sharing mood."

There was a visible spring in Greg's step as he made his way to Long Acre. He stopped in front of the building, his mouth falling open. Johnnie was right; the place was more posh than the sleek black car his new boss is driving. Not even thinking about rejection he made his way inside. From the little golden plaque he detected that there were four flats, looking up he saw that three was clearly occupied, the curtains hang in thick milky strands against the windows. One, the top one, was empty, the windows nearly black with the emptiness inside and lack of curtains. Sighing he ran his hand through his hair. Divided and conquer as they would say.

Once inside he was surprised to find there was concierge with his own desk and everything, wow he is lucky if the elevator works in his building. Straightening up he walked towards the young man.

"Good afternoon sir." The man greeted him, he was smiling but Greg thought he looked way too young to be working; he looked like he should still be in university.

"Good afternoon, I'm Constable Lestrade; I'm looking for a young man, tall and a three piece suit, believed to live in one of these apartments. He isn't in any trouble, so don't worry, he witness a burglary the other day and forgot to give me his statement, I just came to pick it up." Greg was very impressed with himself and his ability to lie so well. If he keeps it up, he might even go into undercover work.

"Oh, well I just started this week and there is no one by that prescription. In flat one is Mrs Weatherly, she is in her late seventies, living by herself. And then in flat 2 and 3 are both married couples, all in their forties and fifties. Mr Brooke is a director, so he is always in his jeans and shirt and Mr Bogart is botanist, I don't even think he has a suit. Greg could feel his mood sagging.

"The last one?"

"The occupant moved out last week sir, it was empty when I started here."

Greg tried very hard no show his disappointment. He can't give up now. He slouch his shoulders and leaned on the desk. He glanced from underneath his eyelashes; he has been told in the past that it can disarm anyone.

"My Gov has been on my case this whole morning about the statement, is there any chance we can look in his apartment, maybe he left a forwarding address or the statement even, I would love to catch the criminals who think they can get away with robbery."

"Well, I can always give you the key." Greg smile broadened.

"That'd be great."

Greg looked around. Empty, just like the little hope he had. It was meticulously cleaned, the smell of detergents and chemicals still in the air. If he wasn't mistaken, there was even a hint of fresh paint somewhere. It was strange, why would he move out, and cleans the place so thoroughly? He didn't look like a slob who would miss out on his deposit for not cleaning up after him. He went through every room; the whole flat was beautiful and spacious. The door behind him opened and he turned around.

An elder man entered dressed in a uniform, he was from the laundry service down the road, and he saw the name on the window as he passed.

"Can I help you?" He asked him as he stepped into the room, his eyes looking around in surprise, he obviously didn't expect it to be empty.

"We deliver laundry to this apartment for weeks, we found this shirt in the back, I forgot to bring it back with the other delivery, last week." Greg could feel the new flicker of hope.

"You deliver here a lot?"

"Once a week. I forgot this shirt and brought it immediately. Who are you sir?"

"Oh, I am a cop; do you know the man's name that lived here?"

The man shook his head. This was harder than he thought, what is he supposed to do now? His eyes caught the shirt, and the small sticker on the plastic, maybe there would be something.

"Listen, can I have the shirt, it might help me to find him?" The man nodded and handed him the shirt before walking away.

He looked at the package, rolling up the shirt in the plastic cover he left.

He waited till he was home with a cup of tea in his hand before he opened the plastic cover. This could be it. He looked at the paper sticker. Nothing just the flat number and address, which he has, and which was useless to him. Opening the shirt his eyes widen. It was no ordinary shirt. It was very high quality, handmade and the material was a light blue. It was soft to the touch. His fingers caressing the softness. There was no label, nothing he looked at it from all the sides until he found it; just below the collar in the neck was two small letters embroidered " _M.H."_

It wasn't much, but Greg thought he just won the lottery, it was something. Something to help Greg to find him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 1**

 **Chapter 5**

 **Burning**

Mycroft must have been unconscious for some time when he was woken up by the sound of the door opening. He steadied his breath and kept his eyes closed. It was too much effort to open it, at least the one he could. The two henchmen came to the conclusion that he moved and put up a fuss and gave him a bit of beating up as they brought him back. Not much though, his face is a bit of a mess, he definitely has a broken nose, his lip is split and he will have a beautiful shiner in the next couple hours. He was okay with that, what hurt the most were his leg and his stomach. By now all the blisters had broken, the skin was red and sensitive, a breeding ground for infection in this environment. The skin that was dead from the cold was just as dangerous as there was the blood flow stopped and can cause serious damage. The fact is, if he doesn't get help soon he can very well die. His leg had swollen and although it looked and felt like a clean break, complications can enter at any stage, internal bleeding, and the bone can nick the artery, so many things. Humans are disappointingly fragile.

He listened as they stepped closer and by the sounds of it, they were carrying something…or someone…

The cage door opened next to him and he heard the sound of someone hitting the ground before the door closed and their footstep retreated. He waited a full minute after the basement door closed before he let go of the breath he has been holding.

"Love?" He asked softly into the room.

"Here." A soft reply came. She was alive but he had no idea in what condition was she in.

"What's your status?" He asked, it wouldn't help to get soft and involved at the moment.

"Broken arm, a few ribs, cold, and wet and…and naked."

Mycroft closed his eyes, dread filling his body and mind. Naked, and she was a women.

"I wasn't raped." She whispered, knowing he would worry.

"That's good." Mycroft replied, after all, what was there to say?

"Yeah, apparently Grey is more focused on humiliation and embarrassment." Mycroft could relate, standing half naked in front of him with his stretch marks and his attention to his stomach was a lot more damaging than whipping and pulling fingernails would do. Elizabeth, or Love, was a beautiful woman with a good sense of morals, beliefs and values, being submitted to nakedness in front of men would harm her.

"Did he also ask you about the undercover agent?"

Mycroft nodded but realise she couldn't see.

"Yeah, then he thought of measures to get me to talk, I don't know anything so it didn't work."

"Same. No idea, way above our level…anyway he did try a few measures as you so eloquently put it." He could hear the fear in her voice.

"What did he do?"

"Inject me with a paralytic or epidural as it was only my lower half that is dead and unfeeling. Still is. Handcuffed me to the bottom of bathtub and filing it with water and burst of liquid nitrogen, so it would form icicles. I'm so cold."

He certainly has a love for water – in all its forms.

"You?" Love asked her voice hesitant, unsure. Mycroft gave her a brief description of what happened to him, after all, she told him. He tried to move to turn to her when she cried out.

"Stop. Please."

"Why?"

"I'm still naked." Her voice was cracked and he knew it took a lot to admit that. Mycroft stopped moving and looked at his shirt. It was still open, ripped and bloody in some parts but it was at least something. Careful for his injuries he removed it and shuffled it to her side.

"It's not much…but…" It was something; he didn't need to say it.

"Thank you." He listened as she shuffled towards him and pulled on the shirt.

There was one thing neither mentioned, the absence of Sheffield, and the fact that he was the one who knew what Grey wanted, the question now was, would he tell him? And is someone looking for them?

"We should try to get some rest." Love said after a while. Mycroft nodded, she was right, trying to preserve strength, energy and heat is the only thing that can help them now.

"Yes….we….we should lie close together….our backs against one another or as much as we can, to preserve body heat." Mycroft said and as he did he shifted closer to her, making sure his back was to her. He lay down on the floor and he heard she did the same.

"You're warm." She commented and closed her eyes. Mycroft frowned, isn't that a good thing? Oh no…he is developing a fever. He has an infection. He didn't reply as he tried to find a way to lie without causing too much damage to his stomach.

Greg arrived at the Yard while it was still dark, that's the problem with graveyard shifts. It was not completely night shift, yet, most of the hours were done in the night. People would be going home from clubbing and he would be on his way to work. The worst part is that he had very little to no sleep. After his trip to Long Acre and the discovery of the shirt, he was too excited to sleep. That led him to find the closest telephone book, which was a year old, and had pages missing because he was bored and practised his paper plane skills. Luckily he didn't remove the pages from M to Z. The problem with M.H. is that it could either be a name that starts with the M, or the surname. Like Michael H or Hodges M….There were two pages on the MH alone, and then three pages on the H, London is full of people whose last name ended on a H. It's quite scary, when you think about it. He never knew there were so many surnames. He knew a Hutching once at school, but he was prat and it didn't count.

At eleven he finally gave up and went to work. He would be fine.

The station was quiet, only a few there, getting ready to go home. He made his way to the small canteen, in need of some coffee to help him through the next few hours.

The call came at three in the morning, a huge bust at a warehouse down Southbank. Someone heard shots and called it in.

When they arrived it looked like something out of a movie, there was two dead bodies on the floor, both big men and carrying weapons. They were dressed as mercenaries. They divided into teams and went inside, each group taking a room.

Greg knew something bad had happened here, in one room was the body of a man, in casual clothes, he has been tortured. Across the room was a door and he and his partner made their way to the door, opening it, there was another room, with two doors and a table with two chairs. They looked at each other and stepped in.

The radio on his belt cracked to life.

"All teams evacuate….all teams evacuate…fire on east side, spreading fast." Greg looked at his partner and made their way back, the room and its doors unavailable. Once outside the fire department arrived on scene, Greg made way as the fire-fighters have first call at the scene. He watched on the side as the made their way inside, clearing the building and the trucks going around to put out the fire and contain it as much as possible.

"Lestrade. Gregson, go tape of the northern side, we're attracting spectators." Greg watched as his Sup pointed to the northern side where people were starting to gather.

"Yes Gov." They replied and did as they were told. Both wanted to be inside, but they are rookies, and rookies get stuck with rookie duties.

Mycroft came too, feeling a lot hotter than normal, sweat was rolling off his face and his breathing was shallow and quick. Definitely a fever. He looked around and saw that it was lighter, turning his face to the door, his eyes widen in fear. Smoke.

Grey set the place on fire. He tried to move but couldn't; that pain, his leg, the fever, it was too much. He started coughing.

"Love!" He tried but she didn't stir.

"Elizabeth!" He yelled again and this time she did stir.

"What?"

"We need to get out of here; Grey set the place on fire." They stared at each other both with fear in their eyes.

"I can't move my legs." Love said and Mycroft could see she was trying. It didn't budge, and he couldn't move his leg. Even if he could, the cage was still locked.

He listened and could hear sirens in the back ground. The fire department was here, they needed to get their attention.

"We need to scream, as loud as you possible can." Mycroft instructed and she nodded.

"Count of three?"

"Wait…" He closed his eyes to listen to try and figure out where the fire fighters were. When he was sure they could hear he looked at her, the smoke was rapidly filling the room.

"Three….two…one…"

They yelled as loud as they could, the sound vibrating through the air. The kept yelling even when the smoke was getting worse. After a few minutes the door burst open, with the unmistakable beam of torchlight breaking through the smoke.

"Oh God. There's people in here…get the crowbar!" The man in front yelled out and came closer. Mycroft and Elizabeth was coughing furiously now, their eyes burning and watering with smoke.

"Hang on, sir, ma'am." The man said, but they couldn't. The smoke was filling their lungs and Mycroft was the first to pass out, the pain, infections and smoke affecting him quicker. Elizabeth was the second to follow and by the time their cage doors were opened, they were both unconscious and had no idea what was happening.

By the time Greg and Gregson was finished they waited for new instructions, they saw the ambulance stopping.

"Guv?" Gregson asked. The man turned to him.

"They found two people in there, in cages…bad condition." Greg turned to the ambulance and saw as they placed a gurney in each ambulance. He couldn't see if it was a man or a woman. He just knew that from the way the paramedics was hovering close and rushing, their conditions were bad. Very bad.


	6. Chapter 6

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 1**

 **Chapter 6**

 **Where you are**

Greg eyed the phonebook as if it was Darth Vader itself and the pen in his hand was a lightsaber. He drew another line across the name. 'Hansen, Mark wasn't the man he was looking for. Taking a breath he put the book down. The fact that he was hiding it underneath a police file in the canteen wasn't really helping. He is supposed to study and focus on his course. The Guv promised him that he could tag along to the next gruesome murder. Awesome! He smiled and quickly looked down. He really should try harder not to show his glee with murder, they might think he is a bit weird. Then again his interest is murder and puzzles, that already sounds like two ingredients for being weird.

Gregson was sitting across him, two tables down; he was sleeping, his head resting on his arms. They haven't really had a break since last night's adventure down the warehouse. Because they were rookies, they were required to put in the extra time and help with the clean-up and learning how to process the scene, not as the Crime Investigators do, but still how to look after it, make sure it is secured and all that.

A shiver ran down his back as he thought back, especially the one room, the one room had chains and some weird straw things with pipes and there was a canister with liquid nitrogen and what have you not. It was clear to anyone to see that someone was tortured in that room. The blood itself told a story on its own. Gregson said there was a bathtub in one of the other rooms with chains in the bottom. Who put chains on the bottom of bath? That is just sick.

His eye caught the clock on the wall, five minutes before his break was finish, he can try a few more names. 'Let me find you, wherever you are.' Greg whispered softly as he tried the next name on the list.

Mycroft was in a bad way, so bad that they had to contact his parents; they rushed down to London with Sherlock in tow. They needed their approval for certain procedures. The infection spread to his internal organs, and they needed not only to operate, they basically have to clean his blood too. That would require some serious medical intervention, and the prognosis is that they want to place him in medical induced coma. While under a plastic surgeon would also need to fix the skin on his stomach, whether replacing his whole stomach or just parts of the skin will be up to the surgeon, the point is, the skin he has now, has to go.

His parents knew he was a field agent, they knew the risk, yet seeing their son in critical care was a shock. His leg was elevated, for the swelling and no cast has been put on. They need to wait for the swelling to go down and whether there would be any complications.

His eyes was blue, his lip split and his nose broken, that in itself they could deal with, but his stomach…It was covered in gauze and he was basically treated as a burning victim. In effect he was, he had both types of burns, the hot water and the ice cold burn. Both very dangerous, both mixing together to infect his entire body.

A coma.

They want to place him in a coma. The treatment would be too severe for his body and mind, so a coma is the only option.

They have an appointment with the doctor later the night to discuss all the options and the best way to proceed. They looked back at Mycroft through the glass, only one person is allowed inside and they have to wear a protective suit to contain the infection. Sherlock was sitting next to the bed his small body hunched over next to the bed.

Oh what are they going to do?

Finally!

Greg had the night off and his colleagues decided to go to the local pub, with a small dance floor for the younger customers. The first round was on the Detective who took Greg and Gregson under his wing.

Initially he didn't want to go with, but after some thought decided that it may be exactly what he needed; a night out. Loud music for the soul, the right dose of alcohol to make him relaxed and just a little bit confident with the ladies – and men. He never had to worry about drinking too much and causing a scene or ruin his name, but a little of 'night out fun' would make him more known at work, which in chance would improve his chances of crime scenes and career advancement. No one can say that Greg Lestrade weren't ambitious.

Greg stepped into the pub and was pleasantly surprised, the place was well decorated, the atmosphere inviting, yes, he would enjoy it here. He saw his colleagues at the far corner of the bar counter, all men. More than half was already married, the rest had girlfriends. They were all straight. He wasn't sure what their opinions were about gay and bisexual and the whole lgbt topic, but his instincts are telling him to play it safe. So safe it would be. Anyhow, his orientation is no one's business. Running his hand through his hair he made his way over to them, aware of the stares and looks he got as he walked.

He wasn't egotistical, but he knew everyone found him attractive, he worked hard to stay in shape and knew that the jeans were a bit more on the tight than loose fit, enhancing his legs…and arse…splendidly. The shirt was a nice button down with the top three buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It was wine red with the blue and it looked good. It never really occurred to him to use his body or looks to build his name and reputations, rather relying on his character and personality.

With all of these he was just a man and he was attracted to people, men and women, even when he was with Peter. What made him different was that he never cheated or acted on any of the desires he hand, but in the end, he didn't love Peter and that made the difference that was why he had to get out of the relationship.

Sherlock sat next to his mother, his hands been mauled by his mother's or that's how it felt to him. She was holding tight as they waited for the doctor. His dad was sitting next to his mom, his hands folded in his lap, his head bowed. He knew the situation was dire, he could lose his brother and then he will be a single child and no one to spar with, no one to help him…

The door to the office opened and the doctor walked in, he was a middle aged man, with grey hair and a soft face.

"Mr and Mrs Homes? Good evening I'm doctor McFadden."

"Good evening, they told us you want to put our son in a medical induced coma?" Violet spoke her voice full of worry and concern. The doctor nodded and sat down.

"Yes, I understand that it sounds very dramatic and scary, but at this point I do believe this is the best option. You see we only induce a coma, when all other resources are depleted. Mycroft was tortured…" He stopped to let that statement sink in, Violet lifted her hands to her mouth, silent tears running down her face, Siger clenched his hands into fists and Sherlock just stared ahead.

"Oh…my poor boy."

"I know this is hard, but I will not keep anything from you." The doctor assured her.

"Thank you."

"What did they do to him?" Sherlock asked softly. The doctor took a breath.

"From what we can determine is that some sort of tubes or metal plates was placed under his skin, there were six spanning over his entire stomach and half his chest. A steady electrical current was run through it and in the tubes was half boiling hot water and liquid nitrogen, it burned his skin, his stomach is covered in blisters and some parts are dead from the liquid nitrogen, commonly known as frost bite. His blisters tore open and that was a breeding ground for bacteria and infections. He also has a broken leg, it is a clean fracture, but was moved to cause more harm and damage. He has some muscle damage and would need to walk with an aid and get physical therapy when he wakes up."

Sherlock swallowed at that while his mom cried harder and his dad put his arms around her. His dad looked at the doctor.

"Why the coma? Isn't it only for brain injury patients?"

The doctor nodded.

"Usually yes, but Mycroft is a special case, because of the infection his immune system is too weak to fight back, his blood is very contaminated at this point and it is affecting all his organs and body functions. This added pressure to his brain and even with the strong antibiotics he needs all the help he can get. Plus, we need to do reconstructive surgery on his stomach as soon as possible as we removed all the dead skin but the truth is, we will need to replace many of the skin, this makes the antibiotics job harder. With the coma, we will basically call a 'time-out' on his body. It will slow down all the functions and protect his brain and organs. With this we can run the antibiotics, do the surgery, set his leg and protect his immune system at the same time."

"How long would he be in the coma?" Violet asked softly, her heart breaking for her son.

"We estimated the maximum time of three weeks, maybe less, depending on how quickly he heals."

Violet's mouth fell open, the shock clear. Sherlock stared at his mom then back at the doctor. Three weeks, they are placing her son in a coma for three weeks.

"When are you going to do it?" She finally asked after a moment of silence. The doctor opened a file on his table and pulled out a white sheet of paper. He slid it over to them.

"With your written consent, immediately."

All three of them stared at the paper, a few black words on white paper, one signature and Mycroft is in a coma, and it is on them.


	7. Chapter 7

Our souls collided before we met

Part 1

Chapter 7

Thinking of you

The night out was exactly what Greg needed, if he was home he would be alternating between staring at the shirt of his mystery man and the phonebook papers. He was at least decent enough to hang the shirt on a hanger and put it somewhere it won't get dirty. After two pints he was laughing and joking with his friends, no longer colleagues after the first pint. The force makes brothers out of strangers and a pint makes friends from colleagues.

He glances to his left, he didn't imagine it, the blonde has been eyeing him for a while now, she was beautiful. Her hair was in curly waves around her face, her dress short, but not too short. He wasn't planning on doing anything, it was supposed to be just a night out with the boys, however his boss saw the looks and whistled softly, and elbowed the rest, so one minute later they all were edging him on.

Greg smiled at her and she winked, that made the men cheer for him harder, the girl laughed and Greg looked down, wetting his lips he knew he had to do something. With one big sip he finished his beer and put it on the table before he made his way over to her, he could hear his friends placing bets on how exactly his night is going to end up. Apparently he is going to be one lucky man…

"Hey." He greeted once he was close enough to talk over the loud music.

"Hey yourself." She flirted back before throwing one arm around him and pulling him closer to dance. Lifting his arms he held her close as they danced. After the song ended they made their way to the other part of the bar, finding a small opening to talk and get a drink. He was enjoying himself, Linda…Belinda. Whatever her name was, was easy to talk to, she was very interested in him, and made no effort to hide her interest. It was clear that what she wanted tonight and with the correct amount of alcohol, he will give it to her.

He ignored the looks his colleagues gave him and after they got their drinks, whiskey sours for both of them he led her to a more private part away from prying eyes. They found a small table at the one corner and sat down. The music was still loud, but not loud enough so that they had to scream to each other.

You turn my head when you turn around

You turn the whole world upside down

I'm smitten I'm bitten I'm hooked I'm cooked

I'm stuck like glue

You make me

Make me hungry for you

He liked this song and softly sang along as she wrapped herself around him, her hands were on his thighs and his were on the small of her back. The drinks were nearly finished and she indicated a refill. Yes, with one more of these and the evening will end up very nice for both of them.

Sherlock and his father were standing outside the room looking in as two nurses and the doctor was standing around his brother's bed. Violet was inside as she insisted to be with her son when they administer the drugs that would put her son in a coma. She was holding on his hand as the doctor got the syringe ready.

"This is a barbiturate drug, in this instance we are using pentobarbital to induce the coma, it would be administered to him for the duration of the coma."

"So that is basically what is making him unconscious." She asked softly.

"In essence? Yes, this is administered along with the anaesthetic but when we bring him out from the coma we will stop this drug."

She watched as they swab his hand, his skin was so pale the veins looked like black tree roots across a paper. Both her sons have always been pale, but Mycroft was nearly translucent. She refused to look at his stomach, it was covered with some gauzed dipped in yellow ointment or something, the same they used for burning victims.

"Okay, keep an eye on the brain waves Jody, and you Tracy will monitor his blood pressure, let's do this." The nurses nodded and the doctor lowered the needle to Mycroft's arm.

The evening was going perfectly Greg and Linda, he clarified, got along great, they danced they drank and after the third glass they started making out.

Before he could object she was pulling him out the seat and towards the hallway that lead to the bathrooms. He found himself pushed against the wall and noticed they were in a small alcove in one corner, they were out of sight but still close enough in the public eye that if you look closely you will see them. He didn't care as he held her close as they kissed. At one point she lifted her one leg and wrapped it around his leg, his knee between her legs her hips tight against his. It was intoxicating. As they kissed she moved a bit away and to his surprise she unlaced his belt. This was moving a bit fast he lifted his head to rest against the wall and closed his eyes. Trying to steady his breaths.

That was a mistake.

The moment he closed his eyes he saw two orbs of blue light in front of his eyes. Two initials, to eyes and one tall ginger man and he were hooked. He groaned and was unsure of whether it was because of the mystery man or the fact that her hands just encircled him. This was a mistake, he didn't want this, not here, not tonight and not with her, however the alcohol was messing with his mind and her tongue was running around his cock and when her mouth closed around him, his brain surrendering to his body.

Violet watched as the bars across the monitors relaxed and slowed down, the numbers of his blood pressure was going down. The drug was taking affect. She looked down to her son's face, still half covered by the bruises and tube in his mouth. She lowered till she could whisper to him.

"I love you, please fight this." With her other hand she caressed his cheek and ran it across his hair, she wasn't allowed to touch him, the gloves felt impersonal, she couldn't even kiss him. Her boy, and he had to fight this all on his own.

She straightened up and turned around to walk out. Siger waited for her his arms open. Sherlock watched his mom removed the gloves and protective suit as if it burned her, tears running down her face. The doors swished open.

"Oh my dear." Siger murmured.

"It's our boy…" She cried as she held on to him. The only thing they can do know was wait.

The shrill sound of a telephone broke the silence in the room, the man eyes shot opened and with a groan he lifted the receiver.

"This better be good." He answered.

"Mycroft, you did it, it is all here, get your butt down at the museum, your mummies is here even the crocodile. You did it, your own exhibition."

(Why can't I be you" - The Cure – 1987)

"to your dream is real because all of your thoughts confirm that is real. But what is is more real than a thousand thoughts about how things should be. Life will conform neither to the story you tell yourself about it nor your interpretation of it. Believe a single thought that runs contrary to the way things are or have been and you suffer because of it.

No exceptions."

(Adyashanti)


	8. Chapter 8

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 2**

 **Chapter 1**

 **A dream comes true**

There was no denying that the broad smile on Mycroft's mouth as he entered the museum was from irrepressible happiness. He was even walking with a spring in his step, the cane acting more like a prop, than an actual aid.

Then again, he has been working very hard these past few months with his work and his dream of a complete historical exhibition in the Egyptian life. Yes the museum had mummies and artefacts, but Mycroft took it a step further, he build a world, a complete replica of the times back then. They exhibition is going to spectacular and his name would go into the history books.

The whole museum already had the pamphlets and info guides printed and sent out, tickets were sold out for the first few shows and the newspapers are begging Mycroft for an exclusive. He had every right to be happy, to be ecstatic. One of the youngest historians in his field, he already made several breakthroughs and is a bonus for every museum in the world. The British Museum is extremely lucky that he settled on them.

Nearly finished with his first book, he is just waiting for the exhibition so that can have a chapter on its own, and there is already speculation, it is going to be a best seller.

Mycroft was in heaven, he was in a state of bliss and euphoria as he walked around the exhibition, they were busy with the final touches before the grand opening and he is personally overlooking every aspect, not a single thing will be left on its own devices if he could help it. He worked hard for this; he put in hours and hours into this.

He stopped in front of the specifically designed sign for the exhibition:

 **Animals and the Gods of Ancient Egypt: The new exhibit at British Museum.**

 _Egypt, like you've never seen it before._

Oh, oh it was all his. He, Mycroft Holmes designed it all, chose every artefact. He couldn't help but to feel the pride slamming in his chest with every heartbeat. He had reason to be proud, he did it all by himself. The youngest in his field. Yes, he had researchers and scholars helping him, but the idea, the choices of mummies, of the animals, of the era was all his. He double checked and tripled checked every tag above the displays, making sure the facts were correct. He even wrote the script for the exhibition recordings. Nothing will be left to chance, everything had to be correct.

The excitement and adrenalin certainly helped him to forget about his injury, the cane was an unfriendly reminded every time he picked it up. An unfortunate accident, his car drove off and crashed in the blasted London rain, he was lucky that he only suffered with his leg, some internal injuries, his gallbladder had to be removed but that was okay, he never ate much unhealthy food anyway. His diet only slightly affected, low fat foods, no fatty or oily foods, such as chips and food made in oil, and have small frequent meals. He has been doing it for years anyhow; a healthy lifestyle gives a healthy body and healthy mind, and all that. At least that is what he keeps telling himself and it is working.

Every now and then, his stomach would hurt a bit and he would eat a small fruit and take a walk, and it would be fine. The leg is his biggest reminder, giving him problems, especially on cold and rainy days.

Good thing it is summer, he might be completely healed when winter does finally decide to come.

Looking at the time he noticed that he still has some time left before going back to his office, he might just walk through the exhibition again, after all, the security needs constant supervision, not to mention the firefighters. Some of these artefacts are flammable and every precaution needs to be taken. He will go make sure it is done perfectly. He won't have any issues and fines when the grand opening is here and there are people being injured. Not on his watch.

He made his way slowly but surely keeping an eye on everyone and everything. As he turned he stopped, the cane nearly falling out of his hands. A firefighter was standing close to the crocodile, his jacket folded around his hips, and he looked comfortable. He was handsome, the white shirt spanned across his back and shoulders and Mycroft could see the strength in his upper body, his thighs too. He was a practical man, a man not afraid of work and labour. He was strong and he was giving off this slight familiarity that Mycroft saw him before, especially the face. The brown hair, the dark eyebrows on the tan skin. His eyes was dark, he knew it. 'Chocolate brown' his mind provided. 'Like melted dark chocolate.' Mycroft frowned, where did that idea come from? He walked closer, his curiosity and interest on high alert.

The man was talking softly and Mycroft was instantly put on ease by the voice. He was overcome by a strange feeling that he saw him before, but his mind was stubbornly blank. It was as if there was wall and he didn't have a key to open the door, anyway, he tilted his head in surprise.

The man was talking to the crocodile, he originally thought he was humming but he was actually talking to him, and from what he can tell it was an intense conversation. He stepped closer to listen better.

"So…..you're obviously a big fellow….impressive…" He leaned to the tag to read.

"Nearly four metres….bloody hell….you are one big fellow…not sure fellow is the right word…maybe…man…but you're an animal…and it says here you are coated in resin and have…..wow….twenty-five hatchlings attached to your back…..nice…big daddy then…"

Mycroft couldn't help to smile, he had a soft spot for this particular crocodile and apparently weren't the only one interested in him. The man intrigued him and watched as he started to pace around the crocodile.

"You're one impressive croc, you know that, bet you were the kingpin in your pond…and it so cool that you were actually real…wow…to think some lads actually wrestled with you to put you in your little resin coat…must have been a fight worthy of animal planet…not that they had telly back then… but mind you, in today's time you probably would've ended up in some bag or shoes…not a display case…I wondered if I would like a croc bag…its' quite the must have you know…just watch the people when they walk by yeah…."

Mycroft rolled his eyes as the man talked a crocodile bag, how absurd. Deciding enough is enough he cleared his throat and stepped into the man's view.

"It is my professional opinion that he would've eaten you in less than a minute if you attempted to make him a fashion accessory." Mycroft was quite surprised to find out his mind was right, the man had brown eyes, reminding him chocolate. On top of that he blushed slightly at being caught red handed talking to a mummified animal. Mycroft grinned slightly and said.

"Also, the Egyptians did not use crocodile bags, as a crocodile was a sacred animal."

The young man burst out laughing, and Mycroft felt that familiar sensation of recognition, he heard it somewhere before.

"No bags….oh the horror…what a sin..." He joked.

"Sacred animal you said?" The man asked when Mycroft was standing next to him now, both looking at the crocodile.

Mycroft couldn't help but to smile as well, he held his hand out to the animal.

"Allow me to introduce you to Sobek, the ancient Egyptian believed that he was an incardination of the crocodile god, his size and longevity strengthened that belief." He turned back to the man, the brown eyes had somehow transformed into pools of maple syrup. The man smiled broadly and looked at Sobek again.

"Well it is a pleasure to meet you Sobek, I'm Greg." He then turned to Mycroft.

"And you are…"

"Me?" Mycroft stuttered out, why would he want his name?

"Yeah, I'm Greg, the fire fighter that is Sobek the crocodile god and you would be?" Greg held out his hand and Mycroft didn't hesitate to shake his hand. It was warm, strong and somehow trusting.

"I'm Mycroft Holmes. This is my exhibition."

The smile he received somehow made every limb in his body relaxed and weightless.


	9. Chapter 9

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 2**

 **Chapter 2**

 **A journey begins**

 _Author's note: Part 2 is solely based on Mycroft's coma induced dream._

 _There will be parts separated by paragraphs of reality where Mycroft would be in the hospital surrounded by his family._

Mycroft was staring at Greg as if he stepped out from a dream into real life.

"Well it is nice to meet you Mycroft. Hey I know, this means you're the right guy to talk about these things, to explain to me all of this and show me around. I'll admit Sobek here has reawakened my interest in animals, gods and mummies."

Mycroft has never been this excited to share and talked about his work and exhibition before, and everyone knows, he is always excited and ready to talk about it. He nodded.

"Gladly, do you have time?"

"Yeah…not really but for you I'll make it, come on, guide me oh wise one…" Greg played as they started walking, Mycroft couldn't help but to laugh at that and was pleasantly surprised to find Greg waiting patiently as he started walking with the cane.

"So you said you were interested in mummies as a child?"

"Yeah, there was this movie 'The Mummy' it is very old like in the twenties or something but it had Boris Karloff, who let's face it is amazing, even as Frankenstein, anyway, my mom, she banned me from watching it, but I snuck out once and watch it and it was my favourite." Mycroft listened as he talked as they walked, whereas he usually struggled with conversation, Greg made it so effortless.

"Oh I remember that one; it is one of my favourites too, the sequels and adaptions didn't really live up to the first one, though but that inspired me to do this."

They spent the following ten minutes at each artefact with Mycroft explaining it all to Greg, who was genuinely interested in everything Mycroft had to say. They were about halfway when a loud whistle sounded through the room, Greg turned to see one of his colleagues waving at him.

"Oh…damn…I got to go." Greg said as he looked back and he looked really upset with the idea, Mycroft thought it strange.

"I understand I took up more of your time that what was necessary." Greg smiled and turned around to walk away when he stopped and run back.

"Would you like to meet up….you know talk more about this….we still have half the exhibition to go?" He asked shyly, his eyes filled with hope and there was no way Mycroft could say no, nothing in him wanted to say no.

"Yes. Anytime you want, I'm here most days anyway until the grand opening, and if I'm not on the floor between the artefacts, I'm in my office, you can ask for me at the main information desk." Greg's smile broadened.

"Yeah? That's awesome, I'll do that." He held out his hand to shake Mycroft's hand and Mycroft was glad for the opportunity to touch him again.

"Tomorrow, ten maybe?" Greg asked biting his lower lip.

"Ten is fine, I'll be here." Mycroft replied, he couldn't wait for ten already.

"Enjoy your day Greg."

"Same to you and say bye to Sobek for me." Mycroft watch as Greg made his way over to his colleagues, smiling at something the man was saying, he was mad that Greg took a break without permission. Greg didn't seem bothered.

Mycroft made his way back to his office, one of his colleagues were standing in the hallway, a slight smile on his lips.

"Seems like an interesting fellow?"

"Yeah, he does."

"He seems interested – in a lot of things the museum has to offer." He smirked and replied with a twinkle before he walked away. Mycroft's mouth fell open in shock. If ever there was a sentence with a double meaning….

The next day Mycroft walked around the exhibition, it was nearing completion and he wanted to make sure everything was done properly; the fact that he made sure it was close to ten was a pure coincidence. They may have agreed, but there was no certainty that he would show up and was just being nice.

He stopped when he reached Sobek, his mind automatically remembering yesterday, as he turned he couldn't help but to smile. Greg was walking towards him. Mycroft looked at his watch, it was 9:50. Interesting… Strange, he uses that word a lot around Greg, even his colleague...

"Hey." Greg greeted when he was close.

"Good morning Greg." He walked a bit closer to Greg, leaning heavily on the cane. Greg noticed and his smile faltered, replaced by concern.

"Are you okay? You look a bit pale."

"I'm fine thank you, my leg is just sore, some days it's good, some days it's bad, I guess today is a bad day." Mycroft said and walked towards the little bench, he really needed to sit down.

"Do you have meds? Is there anything you can take?" Greg asked as he followed him to the bench.

"Yes. I took some about half an hour ago; it will kick in soon, hopefully." Mycroft replied and to his surprise Greg helped him to sit down and then sat down next to him.

"Cool, we can watch Sobek until your meds kick in, oh by the way, it is my day off, so we can spend the whole day together if you'd like." Mycroft liked the idea; he turned to Greg and noticed that he wasn't wearing his uniform, without the uniform and permission he wasn't supposed to be in here… not a civilian. He never thought about it yesterday, he was just eager to see him again.

"How did you get in?" He blurted out.

"I walked in…" Greg replied, frowning slightly.

"Without your uniform, it is a restricted area." Mycroft explained further.

"Oh…I went to the main info desk, showed them my badge and said I had a lunch date with you, but wanted to surprise you, so she let me in, she is quite a romantic couldn't wait to let me in."

Mycroft mouth fell open as he spoke, he said date and surprising him, that the women who let him in is a romantic. He didn't even think about how the security was a bit slacking as they just let him walk passed, then again, if they didn't he wouldn't be here.

"She is…wait…did you said date..?" Mycroft asked. Greg nodded laughing.

"Yeah…you me…mummies…oh and lunch…I did say lunch..." Greg replied sheepishly but still hopeful that they would still be together when it is actually lunch time. Mycroft liked the idea as well. He smiled and took his cane in his hand.

"Well…let's get started then." Greg immediately reached out and put his hand on Mycroft's arm.

"What about your leg?"

"The meds are kicking in, and if we take it easy I will be okay, sometimes walking helps, it relaxes and stretches the muscles a bit, which helps."

"You sure?" Mycroft nodded.

"Yes, and I will let you know if I need a break." Greg smiled at that.

"Okay, let's go on an adventure…" Mycroft shook his head in exasperation this man is something else, and he quite likes it.

"In that case, we should start over here, at the beginning, now see animal mummies can provide a very unique and insightful view, especially in the religious beliefs of ancient Egyptians, they were known to be pets…manifestations of the gods themselves and sometimes even votive offering for the gods…" They walked slow as Mycroft's leg was really hindering his walk and Greg wasn't going to aggravate it more.

Violet watched as the nurse did her usual duties in checking on Mycroft and giving him sponge bath, she wanted to be in there, it is her son after all. Her husband took Sherlock to the library to get some new books for him to read, they arranged with the school he won't be there, as he is needed here. They all were, and weren't going home until they know Mycroft is okay and safely out of the coma.

When she was done the doctor came in to look at his leg, he prodded a bit looking at the bruises and tried to determine whether the swelling has sufficiently subsided to put a cast on.

From his frown and the way he looked at the leg, she knew he wasn't satisfied with the healing of it. The antibiotics aren't working as fast as they hoped for. They expected to see some improvement by now, but his condition only stagnated. She looked at her boy.

"Why aren't you fighting this? What keeps you from fighting as you should?"

Mycroft just lay in there, his eyelids moving slightly as his eyes moved underneath the lids. The doctors said it was normal. He might even experience dreams as it is a coma, and every case is different.


	10. Chapter 10

**1 But you said**

Mycroft tried to keep his sigh and groan as obscure as possible. He couldn't help it; the 'Middle East Situation 2' was so boring that at this stage he hopes Sherlock would cause some distraction – no wait – he takes it back. The meeting is okay. He just has to push through these nice thick files on his desk.

Right then the door opened and Anthea rushed in.

"Car is waiting, there was a shootout, Sherlock and Dr. Watson was involved."

"And Gregory?" Mycroft asked, on instant alert.

"There was shots fire, one got hit, and it's the Detective. No serious injuries though." He didn't need to be told twice he was so fast out of his office on his way to the waiting car.

Once in the car Mycroft took a breath and looked at Anthea.

"What are his injuries exactly?"

"Nothing serious, the latest update state he just receive a slight graze. Sherlock doesn't know about you and the Detective does he?"

"No, it has been a very well-kept secret."

"Until today."

Mycroft nodded.

"Until today."

They shared a look, today is the day that his relationship is going to become knowledge and it is going to be in a hospital ward.

Greg looked up and sighed. Mycroft was quite a sight as he walked down the hallway straight to him, Anthea following close behind, great, his day is about to go from bad to worse.

Mycroft eyes took in the ripped shirt, the blood stains on one side, Greg's left arm was in a sling and he looked tired and in pain. He knew his ice mask was slipping as he reached out and took Greg's right hand in his.

"I came as soon as soon as I received the report about the shoot-out, I must confess I was quite worried."

Greg smiled at him.

"I'm fine, the bullet just grazed my arm, tore some muscle but no need for surgery, Sally is still in surgery, but Sherlock and John is fine…I'm sorry My…I failed in keeping them safe."

Before Mycroft could answer they heard a loud voice.

"Oh do be less of an idiot than normal Lestrade, you didn't know it was an ambush." They looked up to see Sherlock walking towards them his eyes on his phone Mycroft dropped Greg's hand just in time as Sherlock looked up. He narrowed his eyes.

"What are you doing here? The report must have said I was fine."

"It did, but as I explained to the Detective here, and I just want to make sure everyone is fine."

"No no no…." Sherlock started.

"You…but you said… _Gregory_ …you have never called Graham Gregory before…." He trailed of as his mouth fell open and his eyes widen in realization.

"No…." He pulled a face as if he just ate beetroot and chocolate sauce or something. Mycroft sighed.

"Yes. As a matter of fact, it's been about six months now…you're slipping brother mine…I told you once…old age…it comes to us all…now if you'll excuse us, me and Gregory, would like to get a update on Sergeant Donovan."

Without waiting for an answer Mycroft helped Greg up from the bed and they started walking down the hallway in the opposite direction. Anthea looked at Sherlock and he stared at her and she smiled and winked before following her boss.


	11. Chapter 11

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 2**

 **Chapter 3**

 **A grand affair**

This was the most fun Mycroft had, in a very long time; his time with Greg was calming him, relaxing him, like only his work and the museum could. A fact that both scared and excited him at the same time.

They spend an entire hour walking through the exhibition, Mycroft explaining in much more detail about the history and artefacts. When they got to the bench in front of Sobek again, Greg led Mycroft to the bench to sit down.

"What about our friend over here." Mycroft was thankful for the chance to sit again.

"Our friend?" Mycroft asked and Greg pointed to crocodile.

"Oh yes…Sobek…well beside from the little I told you yesterday, Sobek was found at Kom Ombo, a temple and cemetery site about 50km north of Aswan in Egypt."

"How old is he?" Greg asked.

"Our calculations place him between 650 and 550 BC."

Greg let out a low whistle.

"That's old…" Mycroft nodded.

"Quite, what is even more astonishing is that more than 300 mummified crocodiles have been discovered at Kom Ombo."

"Isn't that a bit weird?"

"Well, the temple was dedicated to both the falcon god Horus and Sobek, Sobek personified the strength, power and potency of the pharaoh." Greg got a devilish grin and winked.

"So the fact that the croc is so huge and loaded with kiddies says it all…."

Mycroft snorted at the innuendo.

"I would say so."

They sat in a comfortable silence when Mycroft took a deep breath.

"I pretty much told you everything about my exhibition; however, if you were to come to the grand opening it would be a completely different experience."

"Are you inviting me to your exhibition?" Greg asked his eyes suddenly serious.

"Yes." Mycroft replied. He wasn't planning on it, but his brain seemed to have a life of its own. It was only after he realised that yes, he would like him here that he knew he meant it.

Greg nodded and smiled as he spoke.

"I appreciate it, I really do, but I have to be here anyway, I managed to be on duty here the first week." Mycroft looked away, a little embarrassed and Greg leaned forward, his hand on Mycroft's wrist.

"Can I use your offer for another day, another date?" Mycroft stared into his eyes, and saw the genuine interest, the idea that he would very much go out with him. His heart skipped a beat right before it melted, he was sure of it.

"Yes…yes…of course, we could for sure." He stammered a slight blush on his cheek. He hoped Greg didn't notice but when he looked at him, he realised he did, and Greg smiled comforting.

"Good, that's great, now I do believe we have moved on to our second part of the date."

"What?" Mycroft asked. He has never been confounded by a man like this before. In response Greg stood up.

"Lunch, I'm starving, shall we find something to eat, and I saw a cafeteria here somewhere…"

"There's a restaurant too." Mycroft blurted out.

"Cool, anywhere you'd like is fine with me, is the food good?" Greg asked and waited for Mycroft to stand up.

"Yes, it caters for everyone, I don't usually have lunch here…but if you would rather go somewhere else…?" Greg waved it off.

"As long as it is edible I'm good, I'm a simple man with simple needs." Mycroft realised there was a probability he was falling for this man as they walked to the restaurant. Who knows, they might even go on a date after the grand opening…he wonders how Greg would look all dressed up…

Mycroft checked and rechecked his outfit in the mirror before he went to the museum, he still arrived half an hour earlier, to oversee the last minute details. The press was there and so far everything looked great. He personally made sure he was wearing his best tuxedo for the occasion, he had to impress the press, and of course, a fire-fighter…

He entered the Great Hall five minutes before opening and nearly tripped over his cane. Greg was there, and he was dressed up in his uniform, he looked….well…spectacular. He must have stared a bit too long as Greg turned to him, giving that one smile that would turned his sides to jelly. Mycroft gave him a slight wave in greeting and Greg returned it with a nod and wink. He made no move to go talk to him, as he was not allowed to leave his post. Mycroft spend the next two hours greeting all the important guests and talking to the press, explaining some details about the exhibition, the fire department's presence, the measures that are in place, the security, and the mummies. There were some Royal family members, Hollywood actors and actresses, historians and all of that.

Just like with Greg, Sobek was the highlight of the evening. Mycroft was aware that there was a pair of brown eyes following him wherever he went, a gaze that managed to calm him as he spoke to the guests and people. It was getting late when Mycroft made sure he was passing close to Greg's position. Greg was staring ahead, pretending to unaware of Mycroft's presence until he was close. Mycroft smiled, he knew Greg knew exactly where he was.

"Good evening Greg." Greg turned to him, his eyes on Mycroft before he looks up and down.

"A very good evening to you to."

Mycroft blushed and looked away; turning so he was facing the wall behind him, his face focused on Greg, who smirked.

"Tonight has been a huge success." Greg commented, trying to change the subject.

"Yes, and quite exhausting as well." Mycroft replied, glad for the new subject.

"I believe you, although it looks like everything is turning out well, I saw you walking around, talking to everyone, you were a hit…I was wondering about your leg though how are you coping with being on your feet the whole night?"

Mycroft looked down at the cane.

"I am coping quite well; it is a bit sore, but not so much as the other day."

"That's good." Mycroft turned back to face the crowd.

"I was wondering, what time does your shift end, will you be here till the end?"

Greg nodded.

"Yes, I'll be one of the last to leave, have to wait for everyone to be out and the lights off, so to speak. You?"

"Oh yes. As you say, one of the last to leave...the exhibition close at 8 I was wondering would you like to have a late dinner?" Mycroft asked looking away before turning back to Greg.

"Sure. But I need to go back to the station to change; can we meet at nine-esh, if it is not too late for you?" Greg answered, looking very eager to have dinner with Mycroft…or to change the uniform…Mycroft is going with dinner…

"That would be acceptable; shall we meet outside the station?"

"Awesome, it is the one in Soho, so it is quite close. I can't wait." Mycroft smiled in return but before he could reply he heard his name called from a small distance away, he turned to them then back at Greg.

"I have to go…I'll meet you later."

"Till later." Greg answered as Mycroft walked away.

Mycroft counted the minutes until the exhibition was over; he wanted to get out of here, so he and Greg could have dinner. When the last person left, he watched as Greg went back to the station with his colleagues, he saw that Greg was keeping an eye on his watch as well.

He couldn't wait for the dinner; he couldn't wait to be in Greg's company again.

If you are interested in Sobek the crocodile god and his temple in Kom Ombo - Aswan -Egypt and the egytptian collection at BritishMuseum" in it you can find studies and photos on web (wiki - or British Museum's website)


	12. Chapter 12

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 2**

 **Chapter 4**

 **I'm falling deeper and deeper into you**

With the exhibition finally over he made his way to the office locking up and making sure everything is secure, it is only the night shift security left. With his jacket in one hand and his cane in the other he called for a cab. Soho was close, but he has been on his feet the whole night, and while his meds is still working and his leg co-operating he didn't want to take any chances. It is dark out and although London is well lit, the last thing he needed was to trip and fell or aggravate his leg further. He doesn't want anything to happen now that he and Greg are meeting outside the museum, in a restaurant…for dinner…as in a date….

He was a bit sceptic, he couldn't help it, it was the first time in his life that someone shows an interest in him, and such a pure and genuine interest. He could not detect any malice or secret agenda from Greg. One part of his brain was telling him to be careful, but the other part was happy with him, it joined in the joy the butterflies in his stomach was feeling.

He was always the silent boy, the one hiding in the shadows, the one who would keep himself busy in a room, the typical introvert as people would say, his brother on the other hand, was this little whirlwind, still is. He got the attention the limelight, Mycroft was just there, even in this career, the artefacts and history allowed him to spend the majority of his time alone, and yet somehow this exuberant man, so full of life noticed him, the silent one.

Maybe there is something to the old saying of opposites attract….

The cab ride was over to quickly, and Mycroft was at the same time glad and angry that he lived so close, angry because there was so much to think of Greg and the emotions he is waking up in Mycroft, glad that it was giving him enough time to quickly changed out of the tux, if Greg is going to change so will he. Besides it would be nice to spend time together without class and looks interfering. Greg said he was a simple man, who likes simple things, so no poshness.

He quickly changed into some jeans and a shirt, with his jacket for the cold; he didn't even bother hanging the tux, just letting it rest on the dresser mirror. He would hang it later; he wasn't a suit person anyhow…

Taking his keys and his cane he left his place to go to the station, it was only when he was in the car that he realised he asked the man out, on a date…and Greg said yes.

When he arrived at the station Greg was already waiting for him outside. He was wearing jeans as well and shirt, his jacket flung over his shoulder, he was leaning against a pillar a cigarette between his fingers. He saw Mycroft stopped in front of him and his smile could lit up the whole of London, Mycroft was sure of it…he would know, his own smile could lit up Birmingham or Blackpool…or both. Greg dropped the cigarette and step on it with his heel, before he made his way over. He opened the door and got in.

"Hey, isn't it nice to be finally out of that suit and just able to relax?" He greeted closing the door and putting on his seatbelt.

"Oh yes I'll admit, suits is not my most favourite outfit."

"I feel you….although you look stunning in one." He joked as Mycroft started the engine and move back into the traffic. Mycroft didn't know how to respond without sounding like an idiot or blushing.

"So, do you have a specific place in mind?"

Greg shifted so he was sitting comfortable with one eye on the road, the other on Mycroft.

"Nah, anywhere is fine, I don't get a lot of free time to eat out, or have someone to take out how about you?"

"To take out?" Mycroft asked perplexed. Greg chuckled.

"To eat…and I'm hoping this count as taking out…." Mycroft did blush. He cleared his throat and replied.

"There's a restaurant not far from here, it is small but the food is excellent, the quality good, the atmosphere nice and very reasonable with their prices, I always go there when my brother visits me."

"Sounds idyllic, let's go there." Mycroft nodded and there was a silence in the car before Greg turned to Mycroft, his full attention on him.

"You said brother, older, younger?" Mycroft glanced at him quickly not taking his eye of the road for too long. Mycroft found to his surprised very relaxed and comfortable, he didn't mind talking about his brother of family.

"Younger. I'm the eldest, there is a seven year difference, and he is brilliant, always seeking some sort of adventure or doing experiments, he can drive my parents quite mad sometimes, causing some unnecessary problems…but it is because he gets bored easily."

Greg listened with a smile.

"How old is he?"

"Sherlock turned seventeen this year."

"Sherlock, Mycroft interesting names, is it just the two of you, or is there more siblings?" Mycroft turned to Greg, his mind blank all of a sudden and when he opened his mouth to answer a sharp shooting pain, stabbed in his head. It was painful but gone as quickly as it came.

"Just the two of us." The restaurant was in sight and Mycroft found a spot to park. He switched the car off and they got out, he looked at Greg. Greg showed an interest not only him, but his family as well. He should probably do the same.

"If Sherlock is seventeen that makes you twenty-four." Greg said as they walked inside. Mycroft led the way and once inside they chose a little spot on the other side of the room, it was private and they would be alone.

"That is correct, how old are you?" Mycroft asked once they sat down, the waitress walked over and gave them each a menu.

"I'll be twenty six next month…wait that would make you one of the youngest curators in your field, in this industry?" Greg said surprised and very impressed. Mycroft blushed again and looked at the menu.

They quickly ordered a bottle of red wine before they ordered their selection, something that would complement the wine nicely. Mycroft waited till she was gone before speaking again.

"I studied a lot, even as child, I was always reading and learning…but what about you. You are also quite young to be so far in the department."

Greg nodded and started eating the breadsticks.

"Sorry, I'm really hungry, yeah…I'm quite proud of myself and accomplishments, we didn't have much money so there was only so many things I could do, and right after I finished school, my mum lost her job, my younger sister was still at school. I had to choose between the fire department and the Met, I wrote the exams for both, but got the fire department results first and didn't look back….here I am…a fire fighter." He told all of this to Mycroft as if it was the most natural thing, as if it happens every day that tough decisions had to be made by young men, and in a way they do Mycroft thought, he and Sherlock was very lucky and fortunate in their upbringing, London can be a tough teacher, and you need to be a strong pupil if you want to make it.

"Well I think you are a wonderful fire fighter." Mycroft said as he raised his glass, Greg followed him and they clink their glasses together.

"Thanks. I have been very lucky so far, not to get seriously injured or burned to a crisp – sorry some dark gallows humour." He quickly added when he saw the shock across Mycroft's face.

"I take it gallows humour is popular in your line of work?" Greg nodded.

"It makes it easier to cope."

Right then the waitress brought their plates over and they started eating, Mycroft realized he was just as hungry and for several minutes they ate in silence.

Mycroft thought this was evening was going much better than he could ever imagine. He wished the night would never end.


	13. Chapter 13

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 2**

 **Chapter 5**

 **A dinner beyond any expectations**

The dinner was wonderful, both men enjoying every minute of it. They were halfway through with their food when Greg broke the silence.

"You said you come here with your brother, does he visit you often?"

Mycroft shrugged.

"Well first of all you know how annoying little siblings can be…but yes…he drops in once or twice a month, usually when he had an argument with my parents - or there is something interesting happening on the city." Mycroft noticed that Greg smiled at that, a knowing smile, that he understood the responsibility of being an older brother, and couldn't wait to get to know this man better, he had a feeling that they would never seize to run out of something to talk.

"You said earlier he was brilliant, is he just as interesting as you or is his brilliance in another line?"

"He is interested in nearly everything, my parents want him to study more and specifically things that would ensure his future, like accounting or law, so in rebellion he refuses to study and spend all his days playing the violin."

"You said good job and steady career; like what you did? Did you do what they wanted?"

"No, they wanted me to go into politics or civil service, instead I enrolled into Oxford and entered the school of Archaeology and did what I dreamed of doing, and it is a steady career, just not what they expected." Greg frowned slightly; he could detect something painful underneath his words.

"But they supported you right?" Mycroft stopped eating and look down, he shook his head.

"What?"

"They cut me off so I worked in museums and at the faculty to raise money and I was also able to get a bursary to help me achieve my degree." Greg reached a hand over to the table and held Mycroft's wrist.

"I think you are a very good example to your brother, regardless what your parents did, or might have said, you proved that a dream could be bigger and with perseverance you can live the life you wanted. That's probably why he visits you so often." Mycroft blushed, he felt guilty for a long time but Greg's words were making him feel better.

"You should tell that to my mother!" He replied jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. Greg smiled at that and removed his hand to finish eating.

"Anytime, tell me when and where, besides if you didn't I never would have met you, and that just won't be acceptable." Mycroft blushed again, his face is probably a permanent shade of red by now…

"What about you? Is your parents okay with you being a fire fighter?" Greg took a sip of the wine before he answered.

"No, not really, my mother wasn't very happy, constantly worrying and fussing about my welfare and how her boy runs to a burning building and everyone else is running away…but I needed the action…and I love the adrenaline rush…plus I really needed to start working so I guess that's that."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

"But you have many interest especially Egyptian artefacts…" Greg gave him a cheeky smile.

"Not all Egyptian artefacts…maybe a specific artefact in particular…" Mycroft nearly choke on his food but just looked away and continued eating. Greg finished his meal and sat back in the chair.

"Anyway…how do you feel working with all this history around you, knowing they are so old?" Mycroft finished his meal and sat back, he raised his hand for the waiter to take their plates and bring the bill.

"It gives me time to think, it fills me with a sense of peace of something that can be eternal, that although many things come and go and we are told how things fade, it is nice to know some things never fade, sometimes something make it through the test of time."

When they waited came with the bill Greg reached for his wallet to pay of his half. Mycroft refused to let him.

"Come on, at least let me pay half or the waiter's tip."

"No. I asked you, next time you can pay." Mycroft watched as Greg looked around the restaurant and saw that it was nearly empty, just a few people paying their bill before leaving and a waiter clearing the tables. His heart skipped a beat as Greg stepped closer to Mycroft and lifted his hand to Mycroft's cheek. Mycroft's eyes were wide as he looked at Greg and before he could do anything Greg leaned closer and gave him a quick kiss before murmuring.

"Next time…soon." Mycroft stared at Greg then at his mouth, his lips smiling warm and soft. He could only nod. He hopes soon too.

Outside they walked to the car and Greg looked up and saw the latest blockbuster movie being advertised.

"Do you like the cinema?" He asked pointing to the poster. Mycroft nodded.

"Oh yes, I usually take Sherlock so he can find the plot holes…it keeps him busy for an hour or so."

"Would you like to go with me…I don't usually find plot holes…" He asked and that familiar smile that melts Mycroft was grazing his mouth.

"With you? Sure…although if I make a suggestion, let's skip 'The Mummy'" Greg burst out laughing, he laughed so hard that his eyes crinkled and a tear ran down his eyes.

"Yeah…how about 'The Crying game'?" He asked once his composure was back. They got in the car and Mycroft started driving.

"I would like to watch that, Friday night?" Greg looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I don't want to seem like a complete nob, but I don't have my new shift for the week with me, so I have no idea if I'm working, if I am, maybe the Saturday?"

"That would be lovely, here, take my card, you can call me at the office, to let me know, but if you are on duty we can just make arrangements from thereon." Greg took the card and immediately put it in his wallet.

"Thanks." They drove down the street when Mycroft turned to Greg.

"Which way do you live? I have no idea where to drop you off." Greg looked embarrassed for a moment, his hand twirling his hair just behind his ear.

"Well…um…you can drop me off at the station; I'm staying there for the time being." Mycroft opened his mouth to speak but refrained. When he did it was a simple 'oh' that escaped his lips.

Greg tried to explain.

"It's only for the time being, my flatmate left and I couldn't afford the rent on my own, so now I'm staying there saving up for deposit."

Mycroft didn't say anything, he didn't want to cause more embarrassment to Greg as it is clearly a sensitive topic, and they drove back to the station in a comforting silence. The trip was over way too quickly for Mycroft.

"Here we are." He said as he stopped in front of the station.

"Thanks for your company Greg."

Greg released his safety belt.

"Thank you for making it so memorable." He looked at Mycroft then down to his lips. He leaned over to Mycroft and kissed him again, Mycroft was ready and when Greg leaned closer so did he, they met halfway. When they parted Greg took a breath before he opened his eyes.

"See you tomorrow."

"Till tomorrow." Mycroft replied and watched as Greg got out of the car and walked to the door.


	14. Chapter 14

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 2**

 **Chapter 6**

 **I might never let you go**

It was long after midnight, all the lights were off and the usual sounds of London failed with its usual lullaby in smoothing Mycroft's mind. His mind was replaying the night over and over again, a wonderful loop of balm for his soul. It calmed it, it soothed him, and it a wonderful smile on his face.

His fingers traced his lips out of its own accord, he could still feel the ghost of Greg's lips on his, and it was incredible. His lips were so soft, so gentle on his, and if he really wants to be honest, which he is, after all the truth comes out in the dark hours of the night, Greg's lips fitted perfectly with his. It may not have been a passionate and earthshattering kiss, but it was enough to set his soul on fire, and it might burn forever, an eternal flame as the song goes. He has no idea what the lyrics are, he just knows that the receptionist is always humming _'aaaan eternaaal flaaameee'_ and it drives him nuts but the phrase is right. He feels as if he was a mummy, laid down in a coffin of ice and Greg is bringing him out into the sun.

"Eaergg." He groaned out loud, no he is becoming soppy and sentimental…then again he is the one who became a curator cause the artefacts 'stood the test of time'.

Twisting the pillow in a more comfortable way he allowed himself to think so more, the thing is, no one has ever shown such an interest in him, no one has ever went out of their way to be with him like that, to see him, to see beneath the layers he wrapped around himself.

He must have drifted off because when he woke up, it was with a loud scream as he clutched his leg. It felt as someone stab him with an ice pick. He reached for his painkillers and dry swallowed two without a second thought. Lying back down, he noticed it was still in the early hours of the morning, he still has about three hours to go before his alarm goes off. Closing his eyes he counted slowly to even his breath.

His whole body was feeling uncomfortable, as if he didn't belong in there, even his stomach was cramping up. Ignoring the pain, he focused on other things, allowing his mind to calm himself and the meds to kick in.

It was another half an hour when he drifted off again.

When he finally woke up to get up, his leg was only a dull ache, but he still needed the cane to get around, making himself a quick breakfast he made his way to the museum. He wondered if Greg would be up, or have he eaten anything, is there even a kitchen at the fire department, can he cook, or prepare food or is just bought sandwiches? He made a mental note to ask him, when he sees him again, he might persuade him to get some decent food into the man. Can't fight fires and live on sandwiches, no…that won't do…

At the office he was quickly thrown into a whirlwind of more journalists, of faculty members and old colleagues congratulating him on a job well-done. The exhibition was front page on several newspapers, the radio was talking about, it was a huge success and Mycroft was proud of himself, it just shows you, hard work pays off. He kept a few newspapers to the side; it would be good to place a few articles in the book he was writing.

At around eleven he was tired of calls, but knew he had to play the part, the phone has been ringing off the hook. The phone rang just as he decided to take a break and get some tea. He thought about not answering but that would be rude.

"Holmes." He answered, his voice tired from speaking so much.

"You would never believe how many times I've tried to call you; I take it you are a wanted man, by the press…" Mycroft smiled at the sound of Greg's voice and his playful banter.

"Oh yes…pretty soon I'll be hanging out with the A-listers and would only be seen by appointment only." He joked back and revelled in the fact that he could make Greg laugh like that.

"Hopefully you'll make an exception for me…anyway…I see Sobek made front page of the Daily Mail, probably the oldest celebrity in history to grace the page." Mycroft smiled and picked up his copy of the newspaper.

"He looks good for his age…" He commented dryly, and Greg chuckled.

"Wonder what his secret is?"

"Resin, death and mummification."

"Don't think L'Oreal is about to use that tagline…still he is more interesting than 'The Sun's' page 3"

"Doubt Sobek would like to be compared by nearly naked pin-up in the same newspaper."

"God yes, our friend is an old and wise with a little more culture….anyway on a serious note…I checked my schedule and I am on duty, but only till five, so if you want we can go see the movie later….I also have the weekend off…." Greg trailed off; a little hesitation could be heard in his voice. Mycroft couldn't wait to see him, hell he doesn't care if Greg is working till six.

"That would be perfect." He replied without thinking twice or any hesitation. Even more so, he has no plans for the weekend so maybe they could spend even more time together.

"I also have the weekend free, maybe we can do something?"

"Yeah?" Greg asked hopeful.

"If you don't mind?" Mycroft asked.

"I don't mind at all, that's great. I'm already wishing it was Friday."

"So am I."

"Well, I got to go; I am on duty this afternoon till closing time, so I'll see you around." Greg said.

"I'll make sure of it." Mycroft replied.

"Bye Mycroft." Greg greeted before he hang up. Mycroft put the receiver back down, his eyes staring at the phone as if it personally cut Greg off from him. He has another date with Greg, and they might even do something over the weekend, he was happy and smiling.

"You know Greg; I might never let you go." He whispered to the room, and somehow the room agreed with him, it would be a very good idea to keep him.

It has been three days since Mycroft was placed in the coma, although the doctors were satisfied with his progress, it was strange that he wasn't healing faster as they anticipated. All Mycroft's stats and history showed that he was in excellent health and always bounced back quicker than normal, yet this time…it was slower than normal. The doctors think it was the trauma to his immune system, the psychiatrists thinks it was the mental trauma of being tortured, a near death experience that set him back. Mycroft's parents didn't care what the reason was, they only cared that even slow, their son was healing, was fighting the infection.

This morning was quite bad when the doctor came to look at his leg and they had to move it to take new x-ray, if he keeps this up, they would be able to take the splint of and put an actual cast on. Her heart bled for her son, the machine was so cold.

The plastic surgeon was also there looking at his stomach and determining how soon they can operate. It was decided that they would do it while he was in a coma, as it already acts like an anaesthetic. Because he used to be overweight and have some extra skin the skin grafts would be kept to a minimum and the good news is – however small that may be – is that his 90% of the scars and tissue would be removed and with the right treatment and after care it would only fade to small white dots and lines as he gets older.

The nurses was taking good care of him, one of them even sang softly to him as they gave him a sponge bath, some romantic song about flames that she just knew would irritate him if he was awake. But he isn't, so it doesn't matter, let them sing.


	15. Chapter 15

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 2**

 **Chapter 7**

 **We are the blockbuster hit**

When Friday finally arrived they were both beyond excited, not the fact that they were about to see a thriller but each other. They would share glimpses at the museum and Mycroft would spend more time than normal on the floor. There was a constant stream of visitors and he would spend his time explaining as much as he could and would somehow draw crowds as he talked.

As Greg said, Sobek was the main attraction to many of the younger audience, it is not every day you see a four metre crocodile up close and personal. Greg would smile at him in a supporting manner which Mycroft appreciated. They both felt the air between them, the anticipation to spend an evening together without work, without any interruptions. Just them.

Both were five minutes ready before the supposed pick up time. Greg was waiting outside and Mycroft was going to wait in the car for the five minutes when they saw each other. Mycroft blushed and Greg laughed as he got into the car.

"So were both either very eager to see the movie, or each other…or we are both the 'rather five minutes early than five minutes late' type.

Mycroft looked at him with a straight face, his eyes hiding a secret sparkle that only Greg could see.

"I'm very eager to see the movie." They stared at each other before Greg nodded.

"I see, yeah well I'm the five minutes early type of guy." He deadpanned as well.

That was the ice breaker and they burst out laughing, both know it is neither of that excuses.

They arrived at the cinema and Greg insisted on paying the tickets and Mycroft insisted on the buying the popcorn and soda's. Greg wanted to protest but before he could, Mycroft left him in the queue and went to the serving counter, leaving Greg with no choice but to go ahead and buy the tickets while he get the snacks.

It was quiet for a Friday night, but neither man cared, they walked into the theatre and Greg led them to the back row.

"I like sitting in the back as I have freedom of movement without worrying my head is blocking someone's view." Mycroft leaned over to talk louder above the in-house music.

"Me too, I'm quite tall and like to sit up straight, plus the back row somehow always has more legroom which I prefer with my leg and all."

They made themselves comfortable with the sodas in their places and the popcorn next to them. The in-house music stopped and the lights dimmed as the usual ads and previews started. Greg sat back a bit more comfortable and put his left arm around Mycroft's shoulders. Instead of shying away Mycroft leaned closer into Greg's space, the warmth and the heat engulfing him in a sense of acceptance and safety. The movie finally started to play but Mycroft was too distracted by Greg's fingers slowly moving up and down his shoulder, a soft caressing that spread to his entire body. Feeling strangely risky in the dark he reached with his hand to Greg's thigh, Greg immediately reached down and placed his hand on Mycroft's knee. Their legs were turned to each other, and Mycroft leaned more into the embrace, the movie forgotten, his focus was on the man next to him, who was squeezing his knee slightly. Mycroft became bolder and moved his hand a little more up and deeper into his inner thigh. He could feel Greg froze with tension and then relaxed into his touch. He leaned closer to Mycroft so his mouth was in his neck.

"Do you have any idea how much I missed you, especially the moment I kissed you, the way your mouth fitted into mine…" Mycroft didn't think twice as the shudder ran down his spine, he turned his head and his mouth clashed against Greg, who kissed him. It was just like before, setting him alight, he reached with his other hand to clutch the shirt and pulled Greg closer. Greg went willingly, his hand across his shoulders locking him into Greg's chest and his other hand on his hip, keeping him there.

Mycroft could feel Greg's tongue slipping out between his mouth and licking into his, just like flame trying to get hold of something to burn, in this case it was Mycroft and he surrender gladly, opening his mouth to let the fire in, to let the warmth of Greg in, to consume him from inside out.

Neither would be able to tell you what happened in the movie or how it ended, they will be able to tell you, what happened between them was a blockbuster hit on its own. Something beautiful that there was no script for, any stage to play out, they can tell you it ended with Mycroft inviting Greg over to his place. It ended with both of them starving for one another, with clothes strewn haphazardly on the floor, shirts and shoes everywhere. It ended with Greg setting every fibre of Mycroft alight with sunlight, and Mycroft turning melting chocolate eyes into a burning bastnaesite stone freshly unearthed from the dark soil as it was lying dormant.

Mycroft remembered the shortness of breath, they both shared, he remembered the dark eyelashes as it rippled over his face as Greg kissed him, the way they never broke contact as they moved together, the bed the only think anchoring them to the world as they soared in the heavens. Their night didn't end at midnight, it ended when they fell asleep, holding each other tight in the early morning hours. Mycroft remember as their legs intertwined together under the blanket that every moment with Greg his pain slowly fades away, not the pain in his leg but the pain of being alone for so long.

Mycroft woke in the early hours to an unfamiliar sound, the usual London sounds were there but he had a new sound, and it was magnificent. Greg lay on his back, his one hand behind his head, the other holding Mycroft close. The moonlight cast his face into some dark blue hues; his lips were slightly open, still slightly swollen. Mycroft looked at him, his boyfriend he lifted his hand to caress his cheek, to run his finger through the spikey hair.

"I waited for you, my entire life and somehow when I saw you, I knew it was you I was hoping for." His voice was soft, a whisper meant for only them. Settling back against Greg's chest he closed his eyes and slept. He didn't dream, he didn't have to. Life was better than any dream.


	16. Chapter 16

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 2**

 **Chapter 8**

 **We fuse together in the fire**

The following few days were amazing, Greg and Mycroft would spend every available time together, they would meet for lunch, have dinners and Mycroft was certain that he finally found the 'one', that he should be with, that 'one' that is described in the history books, that one person who influence people to go to war, to stop war, to make medical breakthroughs, to sing about, to make legends and myths and stories. Like Anthony and Cleopatra, king Arthur and Guinevere, Robin Hood and Maid Marian, the couples that you believe that love truly overcomes everything, that in the end love is all you need.

Mycroft had a spring in his step, a song in his heart and a smile on his face, his colleagues would whisper in the hallways as to whom exactly they have to thank for the change in the man, he was always alone, always buried in his books and history and somehow, someone unearthed him like an artefact to be admired.

Mycroft left early to prepare dinner, Greg would come over after his shift ended. He planned on starting soon, but fell asleep on his sofa. The notes for his new book scattered over his chest.

He was woken up a shrill sound and it took him a second too realised that it was the phone. He quickly got up to answer, he wasn't expecting any calls. His eyes caught the clock and he saw it was half past nine. It was late, Greg was late…the phone call was late…

A sense of dread filled him, his stomach twisting knots.

"Hello?" He answered, already holding his breath.

"Mr Holmes, I'm sorry to bother you at home." Mycroft froze; it was the Director of the museum, he never calls.

"What is going on Director?" He asked straight.

"There is a fire; the museum is on the fire…you better come." Mycroft dropped the phone, his cane in his hand as he rushed to grab his keys, he didn't even bother with a jacket as he rushed to the museum.

He made it in record time, stopping as close as he could. In the distance he could see the smoke towering into the London skyline, the police and fire department was already there, it was a cacophony of blinking lights, sirens and shouts. Men in uniform were running around screaming orders and trying to control the spectators. As he got closer he noticed that the fire is on the canteen's side, it was nearly destroyed by now. It was close to the exhibition, he really hoped his artefacts would be okay, and unarmed, after all the safety measures put in place, it would be shame if that were to be destroyed. He looked around and found some of his colleagues; he started walking towards them when he stopped. His eyes widen his heart beating out of his chest. He slowly turned to the fire.

Greg

Greg was on duty.

Greg was here.

Greg is a fire fighter.

Greg was late.

Where is Greg? His cane fell out of his trembling hand; he didn't even hear the clatter over the noise. His heart hammered in his chest, his mind, screaming in his ears. Where is Greg?

"Greg!" He yelled as loud as he could, but no one turned to him, no one even looked at him. 'Find him' his mind yelled at him and his heart begged him to try.

He started running towards the entrance, his leg cramping but he ignored it… Greg is in there. He came about halfway when he collapsed, his lungs burning with smoke and pain. An EMT caught him as he started coughing furiously his eyes burning as tears started to stream down his face. He wants Greg, he wants Greg. The paramedic supported him as he tried to get Mycroft to the waiting ambulance who felt as if his whole body were on fire. It was a slow and steady progress as Mycroft couldn't do much and his leg was hurting so bad, he couldn't dare put his weight on it.

"Come on sir, you got some smoke inhalation." Mycroft couldn't reply or fight back his eyes stayed on the burning fire, in there were both his passions, his reason to live, to smile and he wasn't ready to give either up.

They somehow got him in the ambulance the oxygen mask firmly on his face, providing him with much needed oxygen to clear his lungs. It was still burning. He was hunched over, his whole body was aching. Somehow his stomach felt like that was burning as well it was the fear, the tension, it was the butterflies he usually feel with Greg aching with him about Greg's absence.

'Please let him be okay.' He tried to get the attention of one of the fire-fighters and asked for Greg, the man replied, saying he has no idea where Greg was, and most likely doing his job.

Mycroft had no idea how long he sat there in the ambulance, he just knew it was very long, as he could see in the distance the sky was lighting up with the impending sunrise, his eyes never left the burning building, the fire was mostly out, the fire fighters were tired, their faces all looked the same, covered in black soot and smelling of smoke, their uniforms dirty and scratched all over. He must have zoned out, because he missed most of the putting out of the fire. His stomach was still hurting; his leg was easing up, a dull pain with the occasional shooting pains. The agony of not knowing if Greg was okay was hurting him more. He didn't even tried to figure out why he zoned out, one minute he was sitting, the next, a few hours had passed. It must have been adrenalin, the instinct to survive, but whatever it was, it needs to bring Greg back to him.

Today was the day. The surgery was scheduled for later the afternoon. His prognosis was good enough that they would also place his leg in a cast. What worries her most was the surgery; they are essentially replacing his skin on his stomach. Half of it. He will have new skin on his stomach. So many things could go wrong. Sherlock picked up on her distress and worry as he would stay near her, as well as his brother's room. He would sit and stare at his brother his hands folded underneath his chin, a book next to him, but he wouldn't read. His violin was close to him, but he would only hold it close, not opening it, not playing it, and just holding it close. Her husband, he is the true rock of the family, the one who would make sure they are all eating, that they take breaks walking around the hospital, he would hug her close until her tremors would seize. He would have his hand on Sherlock's shoulder providing him with the steadfastness, the boy craves. He was trying to be strong for them, and it was working, his support made them strong.

The nurses came to collect him at eight, they followed the bed until they no longer could, and they sat outside the door, on small benches as the doctors sliced and cut her son. The surgery was long, in the early morning hours there were some complications with his stomach, a little bit of internal bleeding, but it was quickly taken care of. They replaced the tube in his throat with a new one but overall everything went well.

He was wheeled out after the operation back to his room just as the sun rises and Violet was filled with new hope. A new day bringing new hope for Mycroft and his situation.

They were allowed to see briefly, his face pale, his leg in a snow white cast, matching the white bandages around his torso, his whole stomach and chest was covered in bandages, the blanket low across his stomach and two monitor wires was placed near his shoulders. He looked so frail and weak. She was just happy that the worse was over now.


	17. Chapter 17

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 2**

 **Chapter 9**

 **Forever starts now**

Mycroft was sitting still; too afraid to move, too afraid to anything, most of the rush was gone, only the last dregs of the situation being resolved. He did manage to find someone who might help him to find Greg or at least tell Mycroft where he is. It was another few minutes when he heard someone coming back to the ambulance.

"Where?" He heard and his eyes widen, he knew that voice. He knew it. He sat up straight pulling the mask off his face and half fell half jump out of the ambulance, his legs were shaking but were caught by two strong arms, by a solid body reeking of smoke and soot. He looked up and choked on the lump in his throat. It was his Greg. He didn't think twice as he threw his arms around him, holding him as if his life depended on it. After a few minutes Greg let go and pushed him so he could see him, he tried to wipe his face but was still covered in black streaks but the eyes were sparkling, so was his smile.

"Hey." Greg greeted his voice hoarse.

"Hello." Mycroft replied, not taking his eyes of him.

"You look tired and in pain, you are so pale, are you okay?" Greg said as helped him to stand.

Mycroft nodded.

"I am now." Knowing what he meant Greg smiled and looked around.

"You'll be happy to know that the exhibition is fine, so is Sobek."

"I was more worried about you…you were late…then the call….the fire…and I didn't know where you were…and no one could tell me if you was okay…" Mycroft stuttered out, his eyes searching Greg's before it would look away then back at Greg and away again.

"Mycroft…." Greg stepped closer, his eyes burning in Mycroft's.

"What…I was worried about the exhibition but it didn't fill me with the fear of knowing you were in there…you…and…I really…." Mycroft trailed of, a few coughs interrupting him. Greg's eyes were wide and he looked around before he leaned over so only Mycroft could hear him.

"I think we need to have a serious talk, something meant only for our ears, go home I'll come by as soon as I can okay?" Mycroft looked at Greg for a moment, that feeling of fear filling him again.

"It's nothing bad…don't look so frighten…listen where's your cane?" Greg asked as he noticed Mycroft was standing without out, and it was clearly using all his energy. He was pale.

"Uhm…I don't know…I dropped it when I tried to run to the building when I got here…"

"You…" Greg tried but stopped, breathing deeply he looked around.

"Nevermind." He reaches over and took two crutches from the ambulance.

"Here…will you manage to get home safely?" Mycroft nodded and took the crutches.

"Okay, now go home, I'll be there as soon as I can okay?" Mycroft nodded and turned to walk away, using the crutches.

It was around eight when Greg finally rang the doorbell. Mycroft had taken a shower and made some breakfast, he never ate last night and was starving, and he knew Greg would be too.

He opened the door and invited Greg in. Greg must have showered at work as he was clean, his eyes a bit red and tired but otherwise safe and in one piece. As soon as the door closes Mycroft hugged him again.

"I'm glad you're here."

"Me too…oh I found your cane." Mycroft looked at Greg and sure enough his cane was in Greg's hand. He reaches out and took it.

"Thank you. I made some breakfast, are you hungry?"

"Starving actually." Greg replied and followed Mycroft into the kitchen. Mycroft knew they needed to talk, but was too nervous so he dished up some food for Greg with some coffee.

Mycroft handed him the plate and mug and they sat down to eat. Mycroft had already eaten, so he just drank some tea.

After breakfast they sat and stared at each other for a while, Greg smiled and was the first to talk.

"Did you mean all you said tonight, and the things you didn't but wanted to?" Mycroft nodded.

"Yes…all of it…even the things I didn't. I never felt like this…and I don't think I ever will, with anyone but you…" Greg nodded.

"Mycroft, I need to come clean too, and I need to say some things too…when we met, and went for dinner and you dropped me off at the fire station…I only told you half the truth…" Mycroft narrowed his eyes.

"What half? You lied to me?"

"Not directly." Greg tried.

"What do you mean, not directly?" Mycroft asked.

"I said my flat mate left and I couldn't afford the rent anymore." Greg said, looking down as he spoke.

"I remember…the flatmate…"

"He wasn't just a flatmate…" Greg replied quickly before he could find an excuse not to go on.

"He wasn't?"

Greg shook his head.

"He was my boyfriend we moved in together after we started dating and I told my mother about us, she didn't approve of him, of our relationship, saying he wasn't right for me the fact is, she didn't approve that he was a man…and after we broke up, I couldn't go back home and face her you know…I couldn't tell her she was right, he wasn't right for me…and the thing is…I was alone for quite a while…until I met you…and you somehow turned my world upside down…and I really really care about you. A lot. And I'm scared to get hurt again, but I am also scared of not being with you, of these feelings that I have for you, because it is so strong, stronger than I ever thought possible, and I think – I know that I love you, and if you meant what you said about how you feel about me…I really want us to be together." Greg finished and looked down again. Mycroft stood up and stepped so he was looking at Greg, he reached for his hand and pulled him up. Greg kept looking down, until Mycroft placed his hand under his chin and lifted his face.

"Look at me, please." Greg looked up and into Mycroft's eyes.

"Your mother was right on one thing, and that whoever he was he wasn't right for you, as you are right for me. The rest is in the past, as the present is for us, and so is our future. And by the way…I love you too." Mycroft watched the emotions across Greg's face and then he pulled him closer for a kiss. It was a new kind of kiss, one filled with the love they finally acknowledge and they both knew, that forever starts now.


	18. Chapter 18

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 2**

 **Chapter 10**

 **And little brother makes three**

Mycroft was happy he and Greg have been dating more than a few weeks now, and ever since the love declaration, Greg sort of never left. A month later Mycroft told him to make it official, he must go and change his post address and collect the last of his stuff at the station. They celebrated that with a night of passionate sex and Greg unpacking the last of his stuff in his own wardrobe. Mycroft loved the idea of seeing his uniform every time he opened the wardrobe door.

In fact he loved every part of Greg in his life now, even the cooking. He loved cooking and finally he didn't have to too cook for one. One pot, one pan one serving…it was depressing; now it was two. Sometimes more if he and Greg take some leftovers to work the next day for lunch. Especially the lasagne and mac and cheese. Greg loved his cooking and appreciates it, which made Mycroft love him a bit more.

It was a quiet Saturday and Mycroft was in the kitchen cooking and Greg was doing some paperwork. It was just before lunch when the doorbell rang and Mycroft asked Greg to get it. A few seconds later he heard two voices and he stopped. He knew the visitor, with his eyes widening he dropped what he was doing and rushed to the living room, he froze in the doorway, there was his brother, dressed from head to toe in black with some metal studs around his neck, he was a punk, all punk and the biggest surprise was that instead of the black curls his brother had was something he could only describe as a green crest of curls.

"Sherlock? What….what…this…when…." He struggles to get out clearly speechless with this new development. Sherlock rolled his eyes walking past Greg with his luggage.

"Oh Mikey, close your mouth, you look like an idiot." They watch as Sherlock dropped his bag in the middle of the Mycroft noticed that besides his bags was his violin as well. Mycroft turned to Greg too see an amused smile on his face, he was enjoying this.

"You can wipe that amused smirk off Greg, as you can tell, this over here, is my little brother Sherlock." Mycroft turned to Sherlock who pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it up.

"Sherlock this is…"

"Greg, the reason you are so seemingly happy, and felt the need to tell mum to not let me come to town these past few weeks…and as you can tell….she failed…"

Mycroft clutched his fists in anger and Greg's eyebrows shot up when he heard Mycroft told his mom not to allow Sherlock to visit.

"How did you..." Mycroft started too asked but Sherlock interrupted again.

"Got here? Made her to fail? Well you see brother it was quite easy, I drove her mad, I coloured my hair and she got angry and desperate, so that she actually paid for my trip here…personally I think she wanted to get back at you…but who knows." Sherlock shrugged his shoulders and put on his most innocent look. Before Mycroft could reply, Greg step closer, his hand on Mycroft's shoulder.

"Why did you keep your brother away, are you ashamed of me, trying to hide me from them? Are you scared what they'll think of us?" Mycroft could hear the hurt in Greg's voice and his anger fell away, he turned to Greg. He was once again interrupted by Sherlock who jumped up and walked closer.

"Oh, no…Mikey here doesn't care what they think of him, I bet he didn't want me to scare you away…or just scare you…are you scared?" He asked then leaned over to look at Greg closely. Mycroft tried to pull him away but Sherlock just smiled.

"No, you're not scared…you are loving this…anyway…" He stepped away and put out his cigarette in the small ashtray. He clapped his hands together a huge smile on his face.

"I will sleep on the couch tonight in the meantime…is that food I'm smell…awesome…I'm starving." Without a second glance he turned around and made his way to the kitchen, leaving the two men stunned in silence. Greg stared at Mycroft and Mycroft tried to get his mind to work.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want him….you know…bother us."

"Disturb!" Sherlock yelled from the kitchen." He didn't want me to disturb you while he snog you senseless." Mycroft blushed and Greg smiled softly.

"Love…I would never be bothered by someone that is obviously so close to you."

"Ug. Pet names already…" They didn't turn to the kitchen to see Sherlock standing there with some chicken in his hand; he didn't even bother with a plate.

"I must say Mikey, you're cooking skills improved…so I respected his wish and left the two of you this past months while you had your wild sex and all that, now I just need to stay a few days…" he bit down into the food and turned back to the kitchen.

"Is the potatoes ready yet? Never mind I will go and look."

"Sherlock!" Mycroft yelled and ran after his brother. "Don't touch the food…." Feeling hopeless he just let it go.

"At least wash your hands first…"

Lunch was shared in comfortable silence, and afterwards Greg picked up his jacket and wallet. He leaned in to kiss Mycroft briefly.

"I'm ready to go…don't wait up for me okay?" Mycroft kissed him back and nodded. Greg stood up and walked to the door.

"See you tomorrow Sherlock, it was nice meeting you." They watched him leave and Mycroft started doing the dishes, he threw a dishtowel at his brother to help him. Just because he was a punk with green curls it didn't save him from doing his part.

Reluctantly Sherlock started helping him.

"Greg seems like a really nice guy, where did you meet?"

"He is wonderful, we met at the museum…oh talking about it…do you want to see my exhibition? We can go this afternoon and I'll buy you dinner?" Mycroft asked eagerly, Sherlock smiled at his brother.

"Like old times…sure…I'd like that. Won't Greg join us for dinner?"

"No, his shift is finishing at eleven. We will be alone." Sherlock froze and dropped the towel.

"Oh hell Mycroft, you didn't tell me you're sharing your bed with a copper?" Mycroft rolled his eyes and continued washing.

"He's not; he is a fire fighter...although…a policeman wouldn't make a difference."

"Oh…yeah fire fighter is cool…oh that reminds me…do not open my violin case okay?"

The doctors were happy with Mycroft's progress, the surgery was a huge success and it was healing nicely. The infection receded to such a point where he was no more in critical but still serious condition.

His parents were happy and as they took a break and decided on a walk, Sherlock opted to stay and read to his brother. He gave up after the first page and just sat there in silence, his eyes focused on his brother. He wanted to tell Mycroft that he was being a git for being in a coma, for doing a dangerous job and getting tortured for it, he wanted to tell him, that he was lucky he lost so much weight otherwise they would have had a problem finding him skin. He wanted to tell him to stay strong to get better and that he was sorry he was so brutally hurt, he read on it in the library, it was very inhuman. He didn't tell him any of this. He just sat there.


	19. Chapter 19

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 2**

 **Chapter 11**

 **Mycroft shares his heart**

As promised Mycroft took Sherlock to the museum, they were talking and joking like they usually did, the atmosphere light and relaxed. He took Sherlock around the exhibition, showing him all the highlights and stuff he knew his little brother would find interesting, they moved to the bench in front of Sobek and Mycroft sat down, his leg hurting him again. Sherlock glanced at his leg but mercifully didn't say anything, in fact he was quiet most of the afternoon, a sign he knew his brother was either thinking or happy or both. He looked at the crocodile pointing with his cane.

"We met here, in front of Sobek."

"The crocodile, let me guess, he is fascinated by a four metre animal." Mycroft laughed, thinking back to how Greg was talking to it. Yes, he was. He looked at his brother.

"Sherlock I'm sorry for not inviting you earlier, I would never ever cut you from my life, I feel guilty, it is just, it was so new, and he really like me, which as you know, something that never happens and I was scared that it wouldn't work, that I would introduce you to him and he might left and then I have to explain to you why I failed in a relationship, and I love him, so much, and he loves me. I have never felt like that with anyone before, I just wanted some time to bask in that." Sherlock was quiet as he listened to his brother before he nodded.

"You forget, I know you, every thought, you always said it is you and me against everyone else, so I understand, I was very surprised when Mummy told me, you were 'with a fellow now' I understand your fears about him, and the way he looks at you, the way you talk about him, I sincerely thinks he is right for you, that he is good for you."

Mycroft turned to his brother.

"Thank you Sherlock."

"I am sorry for interrupting like this, but mum wanted me to go to college to study law…ugh…can you imagine…me…a lawyer?"

Mycroft laughed loud at that, no he couldn't, Sherlock joined him in the laughter.

"It's okay, I should've invited you earlier…come on." They stood up and made their way to the exit.

"Dinner…our usual place?" Mycroft asked as they got into the car. Sherlock nodded.

"You know, for our second meeting or date…we went there." Sherlock sighed deeply and shook his head.

"At our restaurant….Oh Mycroft couldn't you just once stray from your usual path?" Mycroft nodded a huge smile on his face.

"I did, we went to the cinema…I don't remember the movie…the preview…was something…no wait…that was Greg's voice….."

"Oh stop." Sherlock cried out loudly.

"You keep forgetting I'm an innocent teenager…I can still be influenced by the wrong crowd."

Mycroft narrowed his eyes.

"Innocent…influenced…Hah." Sherlock shrugged a smile on his lips.

"Let's go eat."

It was late, Sherlock decided to watch some telly and Mycroft decided it would be a good time to finish his book, he got most of the pictures now, and the reviews, he just need to sort the layout out. The telly was on softly, some documentary was on. They had a good afternoon, after dinner they came back and Sherlock unpacked a few of his stuff and Mycroft brought out the spare linen and blankets for Sherlock, he can made his own bed.

The sound was broken by the unlocking of the front door, Mycroft looked at his watch, Greg was back, and oh it was quite late indeed. He heard Greg lock the door again and he stood up to greet his boyfriend. He stopped in the doorway, Sherlock and Greg was talking. He knew he shouldn't eavesdrop, but he couldn't help it, this was the two most important men in his life.

He stood a little closer.

"Yeah, it is quite an interesting job, get to meet people get into places no one else can…I did the exams for the police too, but passed this first…guess it was fate…" Greg was talking and moving, he could hear him going to the kitchen, he was probably looking for a beer. He could hear Sherlock snort at the fate comment.

"Well if you were a cop, you might not have met my brother."

"That's true, so it was destiny." Greg replied and Mycroft smiled, Greg picked up on Sherlock's idea of fate and decided to get one back. He could hear the Greg removing the caps and handing one beer to Sherlock.

"So, anyway, besides the punk leprechaun look, any plans for your future?" Mycroft bit down on his hand not to laugh out loud, he wish he could see his brother's face when Greg called him a punk leprechaun.

Sherlock took a sip of the beer.

"I want to find my own place here in London…I don't really want to go home again…its boring there…nor do I want to stay here for too long and impose on you."

"You do realise you don't have to worry about that. Mycroft wouldn't mind."

"What about you?" Mycroft held his breath, Greg did say Mycroft, and Sherlock picked it up, straight away.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"It's not my…."

"Oh please…I may be seventeen but you have been living here, even though you says it is not your place, it is just as much yours as it is Mycroft's trust me on that. Besides I see the way you look at each other and seriously it is giving me cavity and I don't even like sweets."

"Oi." Greg protested and Mycroft's hearts swelled with pride.

"Anyway, I know I can't stay here forever…it is a good start to escape my parents but I want to find something of my own, you see, I haven't told anyone yet, I have been accepted into the school of music, my semester starts in September, I want to find my own place and a job and support myself, just like Mycroft did when he did his own thing."

Mycroft stared, his eyes filling with tears…Greg was right, he always said Sherlock looks up to him and here he has proof. Sherlock wants to his own thing, just like he did. He straightened his back; he opened the study door and stepped into the kitchen. Sherlock went rigid but Greg was smiling at him, his eyes soft as he pointed to Sherlock with his beer bottle.

"Your brother has something to tell you."

Sherlock glared at Greg who just winked at him and took another sip. Hesitantly he turned to Mycroft.

"Uuuhm….well….you…see I got in at the Royal Academy of Music, and I want to stay here in London and pay for it myself…I need help." Mycroft walked over to him and placed his hand on his shoulder.

"Anything you want brother mine, I will always be there to help you, always. We can go and look tomorrow, maybe a flat nearby, and I can maybe find you something at the museum, or know someone who can help you, I got contacts….although are you planning on keeping the green…"

"Leprechaun." Greg added with a smile, Sherlock rolled his eyes, but was amused. Mycroft smiled back.

"Thanks Mycroft." Sherlock said his eyes on his brother. Mycroft looked down and frowned.

"Sherlock?"

"Yup?"

"Is that beer you're drinking?" Both Greg and Sherlock's eyes widen and looked at each other.

"No, it's mine. Sherlock is just holding it for me…" Greg provided, trying his best to look serious.

"You're a horrible liar." Sherlock stated.

"I'm okay..." Greg retorted. Mycroft was happy, his brother and partner were getting along, they liked each other and if he is not careful, they might get up to mischief. This is all he ever wanted, and now he has it, he is not giving it up.


	20. Chapter 20

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 2**

 **Chapter 12**

 **My promise to you**

 _One week later_

It's been a week, Mycroft has been under a coma for a week, and the news stayed the same, as Violet will say, same problems, different countries…Sherlock thought of something more creative but he is not supposed to cuss…

The weather is still the same, a good starting point for every conversation. The nurses by now are on first name base with the Holmes family, and vice versa. They know Mummy is the stubborn and force to be reckon with – in a good way. Siger is the silent rock, the one who can calm his wife with a touch and a friendly smile. They know he is the one who would seek them out for just random chatting, asking them about their day, their family and thank them for the support and good job they are doing with their son. The young one, is the difficult one, one day he would smile and be interested in talking to them, the next day he would ignore everyone, even his parents and would sit in the corner staring ahead. This was affecting him, he was missing his brother but he didn't really have an outlet for it.

Mycroft was making good progress, his leg was healing well, the muscle was still damaged but that would be rectified with physical therapy and his stomach was looking good too. His eyes were always rapidly moving underneath his lids, which mean that whatever he is dreaming, it must be good, or bad, then again, every patient is different.

Violet was sitting with him, him, holding his hand.

"Whatever you're dreaming, I hope it helps you heal." She would whisper, the agency already contacted her to let him know he will be required to attend therapy sessions to prevent any long-term effects. That did not impress her.

 _One year later (Coma)_

Mycroft woke up this morning, feeling refreshed and happy; he turned to look at his partner, sleeping peacefully, his five o'clock shadow strong and dark against his skin. He reaches a hand and traced the roughness. A whole year, he had this amazing man in his life for a year now. It feels so unreal, so dreamlike; it was as if he met Greg only yesterday at the museum, this crazy wonderful man talking to an ancient crocodile about handbags. Mycroft smiled and shook his head. His life truly underwent an amazing transformation in this time. Sherlock was doing very well with his music, their parents were still angry that yet another child was disobeying them. In a way they blamed Mycroft, he started it all, it is only fair he carries the blame. Mycroft didn't mind, he even told Sherlock that. He would carry it ten times over, if his brother is happy and doing what makes his heart happy.

Sighing deeply he reach over so get lean in and kiss his partner. Greg stirred his mouth turning up in a smile and pulling him closer.

"Aren't you worried about morning breath?" Greg whispered between kisses.

"No, I'm more concerned about taking your breath away." Greg chuckled and cupped Mycroft's cheeks.

"I love you so much. My life found life when I met you."

Mycroft stopped kissing him to look into those wonderful brown eyes, it is the other way around, he found life when he met Greg.

"Marry me." He blurted out, his eyes wide as saucers as he realised what he said. Greg stared back.

"What?"

"Marry me." Mycroft replied and realised he meant it; he started smiling and sit up straight.

"Today, please, marry me." Greg sat up as well, his hand never leaving Greg's

"Today?"

Mycroft nodded.

"I don't want to wait another moment, every moment with you feels like a dream come true, and if it is, I'm going all the way. Marry me." Greg was smiling broadly as he pulled Mycroft in for a deep kiss.

"Yeah, today. Yeah…let's do this."

They spend the day making arrangements to have the day off, claiming personal reasons and then set out for the story to buy rings. They bought new suits as well and by lunch they were in the Register's office.

"Witnesses?" Greg asked as they waited for their appointment.

"Sherlock, he said he will bring a friend to sign as well."

"That's good."

Their appointment was at twelve on the dot, they went inside and just before they closed the door, Sherlock came running in a friend with him. He was shorter than Sherlock, and blonde with blue eyes.

"This is Victor…Victor…my brother and…my brother…" He introduced them with a smile. Mycroft felt a stabbing pain across him head and he groaned as he touched his head.

"Mycroft?" Greg asked with worry, Sherlock stepped closer as well, his eyes on his brother, questioning. Mycroft closed his eyes a few times and rolled his fingertips against his forehead.

"It is nothing, probably the anxiety; can we take a walk after this Greg?"

"Sure, we can go get some lunch, no schedule."

Mycroft nodded and smiled at them.

"You are right, no haste at all, let's do this." With a heart filled with love they made their way to the small podium, Sherlock and Victor behind them.

Sherlock turned to Greg.

"Why aren't you nervous?" Greg looked at him then at Mycroft and knew Mycroft wanted to ask that, Sherlock anticipated it or read his mind. He gave his best disarming smile.

"Cause everything I ever wanted is standing in front of me, looking at me like that, better than any dream, more real than any illusion and nothing will ever change the way I feel about him, and this…this may be symbolic, but my promise to you Mycroft…." He turned to Mycroft "…is to love you forever, the moment we met and our eyes exploded with starlight, I knew… our souls collided. And nothing will ever part us."

They spent the rest of the day alone, they had dinner in their usual place, they walked home in their usual manner, and the only thing that was different was that both were wearing a gold band on their left hand. And it sparkled in the light.

They got home when Greg pulled him into a kiss, and then started swaying them together.

"What are you doing?"

"We haven't had our first dance we are having one now."

"There's no music." In reply Greg looked at him and started singing:

 _Unforgettable, that's what you are_

 _Unforgettable though near or far_

 _Like a song of love that clings to me_

 _How the thought of you does things to me_

 _Never before has someone been more_

 _Unforgettable in every way_

 _And forever more, that's how you'll stay_

 _That's why darling, it's incredible_

 _That someone so unforgettable_

 _Thinks that I am unforgettable too._

Mycroft clung to Greg as if his life depended on it, tears running down his face, for the first time in his life, he was truly happy, the joy and happiness he only read in books and fairy tales, and he knew, like Greg said, the moment their eyes met, their souls collided, and nothing will ever break it apart.

Violet did looked at her son before looking away and then like a whip looked back as a tear was running down his eyes.

"Elsa!" She yelled, the nurse that was on duty, Siger and Sherlock came running in, behind her.

"What is it?" Elsa asked with worry.

"He's crying? I thought you said he is not in pain, why is he crying?" The nurse called the doctor and did another assessment, the diagnosis was clear, he wasn't feeling any pain, he didn't respond to pain stimulus, so whatever was making him cry, wasn't physical.

'Unforgettable' by Nat King Cole 1951


	21. Chapter 21

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 2**

 **Chapter 13**

 **Actually it is and baby makes three**

 _One week later_

Mycroft has been in the coma for a full two weeks now, and so far his progress is good, the skin grafts have taken onto his skin, and halfway grown without any serious complications. The plastic surgeon is very positive about Mycroft's recovery and is adamant there would be minimal scarring later on. Ever since that moment a week ago where he cried, he hasn't shown any emotional distress or anything at all.

Sherlock was getting bored and had taken to spend most of his days walking around the hospital and in moments his parents wasn't watching him, the streets of London, never very far off but still.

The doctors said one more week, and then they will lower the drugs and revive him out of the coma. They were counting down the days.

 _Two years later (coma)_

Mycroft put the empty bottle on the dresser; he was too busy looking down at his son, sleeping peacefully in his crib. Greg built it and painted it, it was stunning, but not as stunning as the small human laying all scrunch up and tight in his blanket. His mouth was slightly open, the little tongue resting at the end, his small fingers clutched and squeezed and then relaxed as he slept.

So peaceful, yet the little man's dad's lives were anything but peaceful, trying to get everything ready, schedule their workloads with parenthood is turning out to be quite the challenge.

Still, he wouldn't change it for anything in the world, and neither would Greg. He can understand now, to some extent, his parent's endless worrying, the expectations they had for him and Sherlock, for their lives, the choices they made…the career one day, he could see it, however when he looks at his little boy, could also understand that desire for him to be happy.

He never regretted his decisions in attending Oxford, or the life choices he made from moving from underneath his parents pressure to doing what he wanted, a job that took him across the world, a job that led him here, a job that brought him his husband and now his son. Yes, there were bad too, like the accident, although his leg is given him less pain than a couple years ago, it is still a constant reminder and he would always need to juggle holding his son and his cane as he walked.

Still it was more good than bad, his book became a bestseller, and it gave him a spot as one of the highest respected academics in his field. They would come to him for consultations if they wanted to build a world, in a novel, a movie set or documentary. The money he made allowed him to provide for his family, to buy a big house in London, and set up a trust for his son, and for them.

There's really nothing more he could ask for as every desire, hope and dream he ever had had come true, the proof was in front of him, in the band across his finger, in the award on his wall, in the baby sleeping in front of him. He was so happy.

"What are you thinking?" Greg asked as he stood next to Mycroft, his hand reaching for Mycroft. Their hands so familiar after all these years, yet it still feels brand new to Mycroft.

"What he might be one day, maybe a neurosurgeon…I much rather prefer that from a life in the Army, maybe even a scientist, discovering new things…" Greg laughed.

"What about a world famous soccer player, the games, the fame and the money…." Greg replied and leaned over to run cover their son with the blanket that slid down on one side. Mycroft smiled at that, trust his husband to go for something that connects with people; he has always been the extrovert.

"A world famous soccer player? You do realise we will be required to watch every match?" Mycroft replied finally moving his eyes to Greg who smiled widely.

"Oh yeah…that would make his dads very happy."

"Dad…I think scientist." Mycroft responded, and then looked down at their son.

"You know….he can do anything as long as it makes him happy, and if it is his passion, whether sports, music or even a writer…I will give him the support I never had."

Mycroft allowed himself to be pulled closer by Greg who cupped his face in his hands.

"We will give him the support, we never had."

Mycroft smiled at his husband.

"Yes. Yes we will." They spend another few minutes looking at their sleeping child before they made their way to the door. Once outside in the hallway Mycroft pulled Greg in for a passionate kiss.

"I love you and this life I can have with you, you make me very happy." Greg smiled and pulled him closer, his hands lowering to Mycroft's arse.

"I love you too, and you make me happy, so why don't you let me make you even happier before he wakes up?"

Mycroft nodded and kissing Greg they stumbled to the bedroom.


	22. Chapter 22

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 2**

 **Chapter 14**

 **Too deep to let go**

 _Three weeks since Mycroft was placed under a coma._

Today was the day, after nearly three weeks they were going to ease up on the drugs and revive Mycroft out of the coma. The excitement buzzed through everyone's veins. His leg was healing wonderfully; the skin grafts were clean and looking even better than expected. His blood was clean of infections and the remnants of what he went through. The psychological effects were still uncertain.

His family was happy; they were waiting outside for the doctor, after three weeks of being cooped up in the hospital they were ready for their eldest to be awake. Sherlock was smiling; he even went out of his way to talk to the nurses.

The doctor said he will come by around after his rounds and then they can start the procedure of stopping the medicine. Not long now, and Mycroft would be awake.

 _Five years later_

Mycroft looked up from his notes, a smile already on his lips as he heard the unmistakable sounds of his family growing louder as they came nearer. It was a sound that would melt his heart and he is already anticipating the joy in his son's eyes.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in." He put his notes away as the door opened and his exuberant boy came rushing in. He smile was wide, his eyes bright and his cheeks red with happiness. Behind him, his brother and husband came in, both smiling as well; he could see they went shopping. His son rushed towards him.

"Dad! Dad! Look! Look what uncle Sherlock bought me!" He shoved his bag in his dad's hand; it was a school back pack.

"A back pack?"

"Not just anyone, look Dad, it has pirates on them, real ones." Mycroft smiled at his son, the utter belief that those pirate faces was real, and he looked up at Sherlock and knew he had his brother to thank for that.

"It is really beautiful." He said as he turned back to his son who beamed with pride.

"Can I take it to the new school next week?" The boy asked as he put his bag on his dad's table, He opened it and his eyes widen even more.

"Wow!" He exclaimed and Mycroft looked at him. The boy turned to his dad.

"Look Dad, uncle Sherlock and Daddy there are two folders inside! I can put all my toys in here…how many can I take to school Dad?" He asked looking up at Mycroft with his eyes questioning. He looked down at the bag then at his boy.

"I'm sorry son, but you can't take any to school."

Greg loudly cleared his throat and shook his head behind his son's face; Mycroft glanced up at his husband. He looked back at his son.

"Oh, wait; according to the latest update you can take one toy to school." He looked back at Greg who held up the number two with his fingers, smiling at his husband. Sherlock was biting down on his lip to keep from laughing. Mycroft rolled his eyes and turned back to his son.

"Okay, two but no more."

The boy jumped and threw his hands around his father's neck.

"Thanks Dad, you're the best." Mycroft hugged him back and then let go so he can look him in the eye, his finger pointing.

"But don't lose them okay?" The boy nodded.

"Never." He replied.

"Okay, now tomorrow we will all go and get you the stuff you really need to take to school, like a pencil case, coloured pens, books, a pencil, some stationary and all that."

The boy nodded, his face serious as he listened to his dad, when Mycroft was finished he tilted his head.

"But Dad, wouldn't I write on papyrus like the ancient people you told me about?" Greg and Sherlock were nearly doubling over with laughter, their hands in their mouths. Mycroft narrowed his eyes at them and then stated drily.

"Unfortunately technology had made some advancement my darling…"

Sherlock was the first to see the doctor walking down, Elsa and Tracy on his heels, he was going to wake his brother up. The doctor smiled at the young man.

"Excited?" He asked as he passed Sherlock to stop as Violet and Siger stood up.

"Yes." Sherlock replied, his eyes not leaving his brother.

"Good evening, shall we go in?" He asked and held out his hands for the Holmes family to go in first. They walked in and stood just like last time the drug was administered on the one side while the doctor went to the other side. The nurses were on his heels. The doctor quickly glanced for all time sake at his vitals and then he moved to the IV bag with the barbiturate drug.

"Okay, so what we are going to do, is slowly and steadily lowering the drug intake, his system should slowly work it out of his system and his brain activity would slowly increase. As he talked he was showing them on the monitor what to look for.

"How long will it take before he wakes?" Sherlock asked and looked down at his brother who was looking very tired and gaunt; three weeks of intravenous feeding had taking its toll.

"Anything from ten to thirty minutes and hour to be completely awake, I have to warn you, because of the misuse, and the tubes he had, his throat will be a bit raw and he will find it difficult to talk. We placed some ice chips for him, the key here is to wait and see."

They all nodded and the doctor picked up the cannula.

"Okay, lowering now…." They watched as he lowered the intake and turned to Mycroft, waiting for his eyes to open.

"What!" Mycroft cried out as he sat up in bed. Something was wrong, he looked around him, and everything looked the same.

"Hey…what's wrong?" Mycroft turned to his husband, who turned too switched on the bedside lamp. He looked worried. Mycroft didn't know what to say, he had a sudden feeling that something was seriously wrong.

"I had a nightmare…I think…" Mycroft replied, looking away, Greg pulled him into a hug.

"Come here, I will keep you safe."

"I always feel safe with you." Mycroft softly replied and leaned into his husband's embrace.

' _Mikey?'_ Mycroft pulled away and looked towards the door.

"Did you hear that?" He asked.

"No, what did you hear?" Greg asked as he started to look scared.

"Someone was calling me, it sounded like my mother."

"Are you sure, maybe you're tired, we had a busy day."

Mycroft nodded and sat back. Making his mind up, he removed the covers and got out, putting on his slippers he started walking to the door.

"Where are you going?" Greg asked.

"To get some water, I'll be right back." Mycroft replied and went outside to the hallway.

" _Mycroft?"_ He looked around the hallway, it was dark, but he was so sure his brother was calling him. He looked back at the bed and saw Greg was watching him, smiling he turned around and going down the stairs.

"Wake up." Mycroft stopped halfway down the stairs.

"Who's there?" He asked before he could stop himself.

"Mycroft?" Greg yelled from the bedroom. Mycroft shook the feeling off and started going down again, he didn't feel so good, his head was aching, his leg was hurting more and somewhere a draft was coming in. He could hear distant voices and sounds, it sounded like a beep.

"Come back to bed." He looked up to see his husband standing at the top of the stairs.

"Don't worry Greg, I'm okay, I'm just going to get some water, I'll be right back." Mycroft replied and took a few more steps down.

"Don't. Please stay here." Greg's voice was soft, hurting. Mycroft turned around.

"Of course I'm staying here; I'm just going to get water." Mycroft replied and looked around, there was a lightness coming from the kitchen.

"Did you leave the light on?" He asked.

" _Wake up Mycroft."_ The voice was much louder now and Mycroft sighed, his brother broke in and is in the kitchen. He looked back at Greg.

"Sherlock is in the kitchen."

"There's no one there Mycroft, come back to the bed, to us. Don't leave us." Greg begged.

"Greg, Sherlock is in the kitchen." Mycroft turned around to see that somehow the light was crawling closer over the carpet to where he was standing. His heart shattered against his chest with fast rapid beats. No…no…this…he doesn't want this….the light should stop…

He turned to the stairs throwing his hands out to Greg.

"Greg!" he yelled the same time as Greg tried to reach him, but the light caught his ankle, it spiralled up his leg and engulfed him in brightness. He screamed for Greg but not a sound came out.

"He's coming to." Sherlock yelled and grabbed his brother's hand that was outstretched in the air. His eyes popped open, the blue in thin lines against the huge black bulb. He was terrified. He tried to scream, but only a hollow dry chortle came out.

"Mycroft?" Sherlock yelled and lowered his head, so his brother could see him. His eyes focused on Sherlock and he let go of his brother's hand to grasp his shirt, a button broke off.

"Gr…." He croaked out, his eyes still wide, and terrified as he looked around. He saw his mom and his dad, then the doctor and back at Sherlock who was looking just as scared.

"Here, give him some ice chips." Violet said but neither Sherlock nor Mycroft paid attention. Violet turned to the doctor.

"Is this normal for coma patients?"

Mycroft stared at them, he was terrified, and where was Greg? Where was his son? How did he end up in hospital? Why is everyone looking so different? He wants to call for Greg but his voice was gone. His mom said something about ice chips, but he didn't care, he didn't want ice chips, he wants his husband.

"Is this normal for coma patients?" As if cut from a puppet string he froze. Coma…coma…coma…he looked up and around the room, taking in all the details, his leg…broken… against a table not a car accident…his stomach…tortured…not accident…it all came flooding back into his mind. Grey, Sheffield and Love. He was in a coma…it was a dream…none was real…Greg wasn't real…his son wasn't real…he wasn't a curator…he wasn't happy…he wasn't what he wanted to be…a dry sob escaped his chest and before he could stop himself he buried himself in his brother's chest, crying.

He wanted to go back…he wants to dream again…


	23. Chapter 23

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 1**

 **Still waiting to fall asleep again**

Sobek was laid in his usual spot, the screen behind it showing an x-ray vision of the inside. He didn't have that when he was a curator. A long sigh escaped his lips. He never was a curator. It was all a dream. Mycroft looked around the exhibition; it was a lot different than in his dream.

It has been six years since the kidnapping, which led to his torture and his dream. Antarctica and Love was the only two survivors of that night. After Sheffield caved and told everything he knew, Grey shot him and escaped. It took them two years to track him down and exposed him. The female agent survived, it was her first mission, some girl called Anthea, he has never met her, but by her file, he knew she was excellent in her skills, he was very glad she survived. She will go far

Mycroft closed his eyes as he was overcome with memories. After that very emotional moment of waking up and crying in his brother's arms, he was distant. They assumed it was because it was of the trauma, and he wasn't going to correct them. The trauma is fine, the broken life and dream is not. Six years and it still haunted him. He spent another three weeks in hospital to be healed from the surgery. He must admit, his stomach is looking better now, better than it ever has. No stretch marks, there was only two thin white lines at the sides, but it was barely visible. The only remnants of the whole ordeal were the note in his file, the two scars and the dream. Of all of them it was the dream that still managed to give him sleepless nights.

He never told his parents what happened, Sherlock knew something did, but he didn't ask questions, they all assumed his quiet and refusal to speak and talk was because of the trauma, but it wasn't. He was trying to come to terms with the loss of the life he always wanted, but never could. He would eat the food they gave him, and he would imagine Greg sitting across from him. When he was doing his physical therapy and walking down the hospital aisles he would pass the children's ward and see his son. Although imaginary he could still see the bright eyes, smell the shampoo as he washed his hair. He could hear Greg's laugh as they would watch television. For weeks he refused to look at the news and every time someone mentioned fire, his heart would ache.

He returned to work four months later, healed and ready to move on. He placed his dream in his Mind Palace, locked away under 'wonderland' as he felt something akin to Alice. The only thing was, his wasn't real, and he wished it was, but wishes are for children.

Mycroft managed a whole year before he felt strong enough to come to the museum, he even passed the restaurant that 'they frequented' the whole setting was real, the museum, the fire department, the flats, the restaurant, it was life that wasn't. He nearly broke down when he entered the Egyptian exhibition and when he saw Sobek, he collapsed on the bench. It took every part of his will and mind to not start crying. He spend the rest of the afternoon just sitting there just staring ahead his mind replying his dream, every time someone stepped in and was talking to the someone or the crocodile he would look up, but then away, for none of them was his Greg. He knew he had no right to expect it, but he couldn't help it, if the setting was real, maybe then Greg was too? He must have seen him before for his mind to think of him, a fleeting memory of a Constable and cab floated through his mind, but he ignored it. He had no time for fantasies, besides it has been years, a lot has changed. It was only later when he stepped down the street and saw a taxi that the whole moment came back. The day he got kidnapped and the laughing Constable who exploded his soul with something that he would never be able to explain.

Since the first year that he felt strong enough to visit the museum he has been back regularly, whenever the world would get a bit hard, he would escape to Sobek, and it would be calming and his mind would be cleared. It was his safe haven; it was his place where he could hide from the world.

It was late afternoon when he finally stood up; it was time to get back to the real world. He made his way out of the hallway; he rounded a corner when he heard it. A great happy laugh and it sounded just like his Greg. He froze on the spot. No…no…it couldn't be…He slowly looked up and then around. He was surrounded with people but none of them was laughing. He looked behind him but only saw a door closing; it was the director's office. He knew who it was, and his laugh didn't sound like his Greg's. Taking a deep breath he continued walking out. As if messing with his mind, there were two Constables standing at the door, they were talking about a murder that happened the night before. Well, he had more important things to worry than a murder.

Greg was frustrated and angry and quite literally spent his entire day at a crime scene. It is not that he minded, it was what he signed up for, but sometimes it could get a bit tough. Like today, he has been a Sergeant for more than six years and he has learned so much, in that time, every day he learns more and he wouldn't change it for the world. The call came early in the morning, the body was found in the side nearly hidden by the trash bins and the alleyway. His boss already left and left him to oversee the collection of evidence and the last nitty gritty jobs.

He can't wait for the day he becomes a DI and left his Sergeant to do the dirty work. Especially the paperwork, he hates that. He ran his hand through his hair as he looked around; he has spent the majority of the day talking to witnesses when something caught his eye. On the building opposite there was a camera. He smiled, that could be the break he has been looking for. Even if the camera didn't pick up the murder it should give him an idea of who was close by when it happened, if the victim talked to anyone or whether he was alone…making his mind up he called over two of his Constables.

"Come on…"

They crossed the street and walked around the building. The tourists were still staring at him as he walked closer, they have been staring most of the day, then again, it is not every day you see a body in the street. They should put that in the brochure, come to the museum and we will throw in a dead body for free. He walked up to the entrance and looked up. The British Museum was one beautiful building. With the two Constables following him, he walked up the steps, hoping that he would get lucky and that the tapes are placed in storage instead of being reused. He turned to the Constables.

"Wait here." With a nod he turned around and walked to the information desk, there were two women seated behind the desk both busy helping tourist and the like. One was a small blonde with a wide smile as she talked to a Japanese group, it was two elderly couples. The other woman was red head. He smiled. He always had a soft spot for a ginger, the man she was talking to left and she turned to him.

"Can I help you?"

He gave her his full watt smile and held out his badge.

"I hope so, I'm Sergeant Lestrade, and I need to talk to the director please." Her eyes widen slightly before she nodded.

"I need to see if he is available, would you wait a moment?"

"Anytime." He smiled back; she blushed and picked up the phone. She made a quick call and five minutes later, Greg saw the director walking down the hallway towards him.

"Sergeant Lestrade?"

"Yes. Good afternoon Mr…"

"Samuels. I'm the director, now Lisa said you needed to speak to me?"

"Yes, I'm sure you are aware of the murder, I saw the building has cameras on the side, and I was hoping that you might be able to show it to, it could help with the investigation."

"But of course, if you would please follow me to my office."

Greg followed him down the hallways he could see the paintings and sculptures, the exhibitions taking place, it was quite fascinating and he couldn't remember the last time he was at the museum, just taking it all in. They walked past the Egyptian Exhibition and Greg smiled, aah Mummies…that is always cool, no matter what age you are. They turned into a corner and Greg hope he would find his way, this part has a few hallways and corners. Just before the entered his office the director turned to Greg.

"I will help you as much as I can, but I doubt one of my Mummies may be the killer, that only happens in movies." Greg burst out laughing. He remember the Mummy movie a few years ago, it was great entertainment. The entered the office and the director closed the door.

"I'm sure we would've found evidence if that were the case." Greg joked back. Once inside the place looked as if in the middle of renovations. The director smiled.

"Forgive the state of the office, it is only temporary, we are busy with some renovations and upgrades, so this is my office for the time being. Now if you would sit down, I would get the necessary paperwork and call down to the security office to make you the necessary copies of yesterday and this morning."

"Thank you."

The whole exchange took about twenty minutes when Greg thanked him and walked out and passed the Egyptian exhibition, he stopped, frowned a bit, bit his lip nodded and then took a detour through the exhibition. He should get back, but it is Mummies after all.

"Woah…" He stopped and looked at animal.

"That is one massive croc…" He whispered as walked around the animal. He made it too the small plaque.

"Sobek."

He looked at the Croc and bent forward.

"It's nice to meet you, but I am very happy you are there in your little cage and I am here…and that you are dead….so very dead….don't come alive like they do in the movies okay?"


	24. Chapter 24

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 2**

 **Baby has got blue eyes**

Greg mouth stood out as he held his breath and slowly let it out. The display with the rings stood all neatly in a row, shining brighter than the next in the sun. He bit down on his lip and gave a thankful nod when his phone started to ring. Seems the universe is sharing his feelings.

"Lestrade." With one last glance he turned away and walked down the street. Saved by the ringtone.

The man had been stabbed during a robbery, his wallet, his phone... and his life…even though Greg loved his job this was one of those cases he hated the most, a useless robbery becomes a murder.

While the forensics did their job he and his detective inspector were drinking a warm coffee. These last few weeks the murder rate was quite high. He looked to his DI as he talked.

"Are you two coming to the NSY's Charity Ball this year? It's the last of this century. I remember last year you weren't there." Greg frowned, is it really that time of the year again?

"No? Oh I remember…I bought the tickets then it happened that Sandy was on duty so I stayed at the Yard." The DI nodded.

"Speaking of which, how long have you been together…you and Sandy? She's a good girl you know." Greg groaned. It is always the same, how long…what's next…what the plan…blah blah…he didn't had any plans.

"It will be two years next summer…she's a good doctor as well." Greg screamed internally, here it comes….

"Two years…quite some time hey…I popped the question a year after me and Susan…couldn't wait any longer…when you know, you know…"

"Yeah yeah…" Greg agreed looking away, he knows, he knows she is not the one…he knows he might not be ready…he knows a lot of things, except whether he wants to commit.

"Also, you are 33…" They were interrupted by loud whistle from the crime scene and Greg was very happy for the break. The DI followed Greg's example in throwing the empty coffee cup.

"Let's see what they got."

'When you know, you know…' the words were circling around Greg's head, just as a pair of blue eyes was haunting him.

His day was going horribly; Mycroft was forced to sit through two meetings one more boring than the next. It was time wasting and he really had better things on his mind. The problem was that he couldn't think of the other things on his mind as he had to take down his own notes for future reference, yes he could just store it in his mind, but he didn't want to do the injustice to his brain with this mundane meeting.

He tilted his head; maybe he should get an assistant. He mentally rolls his eyes, oh that would be something…training someone to keep up with him, how on earth is he supposed to do that? Maybe later in his career but right now he works better alone.

Right now he should pay attention to the meeting. He wonders if they caught the guy who killed that victim near the museum. No…focus…work….

Oh it is so boring….

Greg got home and as always he got rid of his coat and jacket and depending on the day, remove the lapels of his shirt from the trousers, let it hang…he must try to keep some sort of rebellion of his youth…

He picked up the phone and dialled. The phone rang four times before it was picked up

"Greg! Hey…" Greg face immediately broke out into a smile.

"Hey Sandy." He greeted back, his voice tired. Sandy picked up on it straight away.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, you do know that not every call I make is to you for stitches right?"

"Hmm. Still you know I would." She joked back with soft laughter.

"So, how can I help? Are you home yet?"

"Yeah, just got here…anyway…do you remember last year when we were supposed to go the Annual Charity ball, but you had to work and we never went?"

"Hmmm…not really…sorry darling…"

"Anyhow…my DI was reminded me of it today and he put it in such a way that we have to go." He could hear her thinking on the other side and the soft sigh.

"I know you're probably busy but I was wondering if we could…you know…"

"I understand, it is important to your career okay, you can get the tickets and I'll try to get off."

"Great…yeah…thanks…"

"Sure…listen I have to go, they're waiting for me in the surgery."

"Oh okay…see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

Greg put the phone down with a smile, he loved the fact that Sandy was so quick to understand him, she was smart and always clear and direct to the point. Even now, two years later, they still didn't move in together, he never ask, and she never expected it. They were happy with the way things were and didn't have any plans on expanding it. They both were very busy with their careers, he planned on being a DI in the next five years, and she was one of the best surgeons at one of the biggest trauma units in London.

He sat down on the sofa as he thought about their relationship, they appear to be this close couple in public, they got out a lot, they have regular and amazing sex, but in all honesty they were more best friends with benefits than anything else.

He shouldn't think like this, he should put some music on, take a shower and relax. That's a good idea, first dinner…he got up and put on his music then he went and searched through his fridge for some leftovers that is still edible. He found some food and as it warmed up in the microwave he sang along with the words.

 _Blue eyes  
Baby's got blue eyes  
Like a deep blue sea  
On a blue blue day  
Blue eyes  
Baby's got blue eyes  
When the morning comes  
I'll be far away_

 _...  
Blue eyes laughing in the sun  
Laughing in the rain  
Baby's got blue eyes  
And I am home, and I am home again_

He stopped halfway; the lyrics stabbed him straight through his chest into his heart, why oh why did he choose this song. He took a breath, it's been six years, six years and certain blue eyes were still haunting him when he closed his eyes. Every ginger he met he would check to see if he can find those eyes again. Nothing.

Every word, every name related to those initials would make his stop and try again. He would analyse it, cut it apart, hoping to find the owner of the shirt in the back of his wardrobe, still on the same hanger, in the same plastic cover with the old telephone papers inside, all of the names scratch out. Until recently he would walk passed Long Acre and looked up, but a married couple moved in afterwards and they still lived there.

He tried moving on, he succeeded to an extent, he had some partners but the longest one so far was Sandy, and even after two years they haven't committed. He always said career first. The partners; man or women was enough to push the most loneliness away, but it wasn't enough, it wasn't that one that would make him commit. He met Sandy in 1997 Dr. Madison was on call that night. He had been stabbed, nothing serious, but he did need some stitches, her shift was at the end but the emergency room was full so she stayed to help and she sutured the sergeant. Her hands were steady, her green eyes fixed on his skin... he tried to flirt with her but she didn't seem to have noticed him for real...

He forgot about it until he had to go back to get the stitches removed, they met in front of the coffee machine. At least that is where he found her, she was about to kick the coffee machine. She became aware of his presence when it was too late; her leg was already in the air as they locked eyes. She shrugged.

"It stole my last change."

Greg gave her his best smile.

"Maybe you should call the police."

She smiled at him, folding her arms she leaned against the machine.

"I'm not sure the police can do anything without hard proof." Greg burst out laughing.

"Yeah, you got me there. Tell you what, how about I buy you a coffee? That way the police can at least try to rectify some of the injustice."

She nodded all serious but he could see she was trying to keep her laugh in.

"Seems fair. Thank you." Greg put the money into the machine and gave the new freshly brewed coffee to her. She immediately took it and took a sip.

"Oh yes…been craving one since my last surgery two hours ago."

"Wow, that's quite some time."

"Yup." She agreed and Greg was surprised to find that every time she moved her head, her ponytail nodded as well. They stood there in the hallway and she looked at his hand.

"So, ready to remove those stitches?" Greg looked surprised at her.

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"Cause its mine…I remember it…oh I'm Sandy by the way."

"Greg." He held out his other hand and shook hands.

"Okay, let's get those stitches out. I have twenty minutes till my next surgery."

By the end of the night he Greg had a number and a date. He loved the fact that she never asked for anything more, she never expected more and neither did he, but the question was….is it enough? Two years…should they get married…engaged…is she the one who would make him commit…she may not have blue eyes…but should old memories; old dreams keep him from the future?

 _(Blue eyes – Elton John - 1982)_


	25. Chapter 25

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 3**

 **May the force be with you**

Mycroft managed the meeting and several after that, however by the end of the week he was fed up, he had enough. He missed legwork but has been steadily easing up on it, focusing more on getting promoted and starting to use his influence and contacts behind the scenes. He found it better that way, stay anonymous and try to have as many fingers in many pies with none the wiser and no way to track it back to you. There will always be superiors and someone who requires answers and needing to supervise him, but he will be indispensable, making him one of a kind. Trouble is, as they saying goes; Rome wasn't built in a day.

This week he learned about a possible international scandal waiting to happen. For some reason there is even connections and ties to Scotland Yard, which means that they will probably be working together with them.

He sighed loudly.

"Great." He just loves liaisons and teamwork and working together…

"And that face?" Mycroft looked up to the door; Mr. Lewisham was standing in the doorway, his collar undone. Mycroft hated it, just because it is nearly time to go home, doesn't mean you can start _undressing_ at work.

"I was thinking about this money laundering case for the weapons…you do realise we will need to get the NSY on this?" Mycroft answered and Lewisham smiled and sat down.

"So that's why you pulled a face, your fondness to get outsiders involved." Mycroft straightened his jacket.

"I just hate loose ends, and the risk for a leak to become more."

"I know Mycroft. But I have been working with the NSY for some years now; the DI and I there go way back, he is of the good sort, in this business you should take your allies wherever you can, even if they seem beneath you. Now I've scheduled a meeting for Monday with the DI, and he is bringing one of his trusted Sergeants with. He vouches for him; say he trusts him, so I said I will bring you along. Look him out, and let me knows if we can trust him, if we can we can continue with this liaison, if you don't give the green light, we scrapped it and find another way."

Mycroft was impressed, Lewisham obviously values his skills and knows he is the one who could solve this quickly and efficiently.

"Monday? Okay."

Lewisham clapped his hands together.

"Great. See you Monday then."

Tap…tap tap…tap…tap….tap….

Sandy watched from the sink as Greg sat at the table eating breakfast, his right hand holding his toast, his left was tapping on the table.

Tap…tap…tap tap tap…tap…tap.

Oh great, it isn't even a tune…just random tapping. His eye caught hers and she glared at him with her arms folded, oblivious Greg smiled and took another bite, his left hand tapping away.

Tap…tap…She hand enough and walked over placing her hand over his.

"Stop it."

He frowned and looks at their hands.

"What?"

She gave a pointed look and folder her arms again.

"Okay, give…what's eating you?"

"Nothing." Greg shrugged and finishes his last piece.

"Ten points for lying, want to try again?"

Greg shrugged and sat back.

"There's this meeting and my boss told me to look sharp, smart and clever, and it is not for court…what a way to start my Monday."

Sandy leaned over and took his hand.

"You have nothing to worry about, you are smart, you are very sharp and one of the cleverest men I know – and I know a lot." She added jokingly, it works as he broke out in a smile.

"Thanks."

"With whom is this meeting that got you all riled up?"

"I'm not riled up." Greg defended and she laughed.

"Greg, you have your best suit out, hanging against the wardrobe, your shoes are shining brighter than the bathroom mirror!"

Greg tried to smile and ran his hands through his hair, Sandy was right, he was hyper aware of this meeting and everything in him tells him this is big…like life alternating big…just a sense or something. He looked back at her.

"I don't know Sands…he just said be at NSY at nine, looking my best…and I think it may be with the Secret Service, he has been a liaison for them in the past…don't know why I have to be there though." Sandy stood up and walked around the table, wrapping her arms around Greg and resting her head on his shoulder. Greg held her close and smiled.

"You know what Babe; you are going to win the prize today for the most interesting day…"

"Yeah? How come?"

"You get spooks and minions…I get the usual day at the emergency and trauma…maybe I get lucky and have to put stitches on another cute and handsome cop."

Greg pulled her so that she sat on his lap, as not to lose her balance.

"Oh no…I'm the cleverest and smartest cop you know…" He whispered between kisses on her mouth and jaw. She laughed and held up a finger.

"You forgot sharp…"

"My bad…" He leaned over and kissed her briefly before she pulled away and stood up.

"You need to get ready; otherwise you are going to be late for your super secretive meeting Sergeant Lestrade."

Greg looks at his watch and stood up.

"Yeah, you're right. I'll call you tonight."

"You better. I want to know everything about your meeting."

Greg made his way to the bedroom his suit was hanging and yes he did take time to shine his shoes. He had a feeling today, everything changes…

Mycroft stood up that morning ready for the day. Today is the day he has that meeting with NSY about the money laundering used for weapon trafficking. Lewisham and the DI have been dealing with cases for years, but apparently both Lewisham and the DI decided to bring in their protégé's, or the ones to continue the liaison, the next in line…He has no idea why he has to go…okay he knows…he is smart and it will give him the opportunity to lessen his normal fieldwork for something more home based. He chose his most intimating suit, black pinstripe with his white crisp shirt and red tie and handkerchief. Bold colours. Strong image, he has to do everything he can to make sure this meeting goes the way he wanted to. Whatever happens today, everything will change.


	26. Chapter 26

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 4**

 **The ghost of you.**

Greg walked down the hallway, the glances he got informed him, that he succeeded in looking sharp and smart…and sexy…anyway it was precisely nine when he knocked on his DI's door and heard the loud. "Come in."

He went in and sat down. His boss looked up.

"Wow, you do clean up nicely Lestrade."

"Uh, thanks Boss."

"Relax kid." Greg smiled seeing his boss also relaxed and calm helped him to relax. He looked at the name plaque Detective Inspector. S Wells. He got lucky to fall under Well's team. He is fair, dedicating and hard working. He folded his hands on the table and Greg knew the serious talk is about to start.

"Okay, kid. The story is as follows, the NSY have been in a liaison with the Majesty service for years now. The MI5 and occasionally the MI6. Sometimes the cases overlapped and therefore a certain level of secrecy is involved. I, myself have been working together with a Mr Lewisham from the Secret Service, now there is a new case involved and both Lewisham and I decided it was time to bring in reinforcements, or protégés to take over once we resigned and mostly to do the legwork to be honest…" He gave a slight chuckle that frankly, did nothing to ease the sudden tenseness in gut. He knew this was big, but this is a whole new level of big. He was right, today everything changes.

"Why me?" He could've kicked himself, of all the questions this is the one he asked?

"You're my best Sergeant, you're dedicated, you're hardworking and even thought you have been a Sergeant for six years, you are further along than any other Sergeant here. The team likes you, you get along with everyone and I think you would be perfect for the job."

"As an intermediate liaison between the Yard and Secret Service?" He isn't even thirty five yet…and he may already be in too deep…great.

"Don't look so pale kid; you are going to be great." Wells spoke with confidence and all Greg could do was smile.

"Yeah…I'll give it my best." Wells smiled as if he just won the lotto.

"That's my boy, okay let's get going."

"Wait. What?" Greg asked as Wells stood up and picked up his coat.

"To the meeting, you didn't think I made you dress up to tell you are coordinator now did you?" Greg's eyes were wide as saucers and with a deep breath he followed his DI out the building towards the car.

Mycroft waited in his office or one of them, so far he already has two…and the warehouse…that no one knows about…anyway. The DI and Sergeant from the NSY are on their way. They have arranged for a quick brunch with snacks and food, giving the opportunity for everyone to get to know each other, Mycroft usually uses the time to deduce as much as he can from the people in the room, in this case the DI and the Sergeant, if he going to be working together with them, he wants to know as much as he can.

He glanced out the window, to see the silver car parking on the designated spot. They are here. He straightened his back and stepped out. Time to begin.

Greg followed Wells into the building and noticed that is was the perfect building to blend in, there was nothing that made it stand out. Wells swiped his security card and greeted the man at the desk with a smile and wave. Greg just smiled, too nervous to do much else. They walked down the foyer towards the elevator. Once inside Wells pressed the button and they went up to the second floor. Once outside they walked down the hallway, before they entered the room Wells stopped Greg.

"There will be a short brunch with food and snacks; this is so we can all get to know each other before we move on to the meeting."

Greg nodded, his stomach was in twists and shambles and he had no idea how he is supposed to eat or drink anything.

They entered the room and Greg looked around, there were four men and two women in the room, he recognised one of the men from HR, the rest he had no clue.

His DI immediately wasted no time in introducing him to a Mr Lewisham who took a like in him instantly.

"Oh Mr Holmes is on his way, he just had to make a call, I can't wait to introduce him to you, I think you would get along great." Greg smiled well so far it has been good and everything has been going smoothly, yet the knot in his stomach didn't ease up.

Mycroft entered the room and his eyes glanced over everyone especially those at the NSY, one man, he is from the HR department, having an affair with his secretary…boring….He looked towards Lewisham and saw him talking to two men, the Detective Inspector…loyal, sturdy and of the good sort. Married to his wife for twenty years, still faithful, Mycroft was impressed, Lewisham was right; the man is of the good sort. He looked toward the Sergeant. Mycroft eyes narrowed…interesting…bisexual…hard working…dedicated…ambitious…but won't be mixed in with bribery or anything that would jeopardize his good character….something familiar…thought…in a relationship…with a women…long term…but not serious…not committed…faithful…loyal but comfortable.

Still he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was familiar about the man.

Greg had the sudden feeling that he was being watched, that he was being scrutinised. It was weird; he looked around but saw everyone busy talking to someone else. He caught a figure at the door, he was tall, dark auburn hair, and he was looking towards the snack table. Greg frowned, the man looked familiar…there was this air around him…he couldn't pinpoint it. He walked over to the table and picked up a bottle of water, his hands were aching for a cigarette. He turned back to his DI as they spoke.

"Ah here he is Sergeant let me introduce to Mr Holmes…" Greg turned around with Lewisham and Wells and made their way across the room towards Mycroft. Greg froze, his legs moving on its own, now that the man was looking towards them, it hit him square in the chest. His heart skipped a beat as realization hit. That man was the man who in essence has been haunting him for more than six years. That tall auburn man, with the umbrella and skies for eyes was in the same room as him. He had no idea how to act, his mouth was dry. They haven't made eye contact yet, but Greg knew already it was that man, he looked even more spectacular than six years ago, the three piece suit was clearly made for him as it melted against his frame, the black pinstripe and the red tie was causing havoc to all his senses. Six years….he has been searching for six years and then just like that, out of the blue…here he is.

"Ah. May I introduce you to Mr Mycroft Holmes, Mr Holmes; this is Detective Inspector Samuel Wells and Sergeant Gregory Lestrade." Greg watched as his DI, shook his hand before he turned to Greg. Their hands were outstretched when their eyes locked.

Mycroft froze.

No….

It can't be…

No…

Mycroft was aware that he was attracting attention, but he couldn't help it, here in front of him was a vision, or a hallucination or a ghost or something. Six years…one comatose dream and a hell lot of nightmares and therapy, here the man is standing hand outstretched looking just as flabbergasted as he is…can it be that he remembers him? He shook the idea away; there is no way he remembers. Pushing everything aside he put his cold mask on.

"Sergeant Lestrade." He stated, shaking the outreached hand and had to do everything in his power not to gasp out loud. It felt so familiar, the size, the callouses…his Greg, his eyes. His dream.

Greg shook the hand, his eyes not leaving Mycroft's.

"MH…six…ha." Greg mumbled not believing his eyes. Lewisham looked at Greg.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" Greg removed his hand and broke eye contact; he cleared his throat as both hands squeezed the water bottle.

"Oh sorry, this is all new…Good to meet you Mr Holmes. Looking forward to work with you." Mycroft looked around before settling back at Greg making sure not to look him in the eye. He couldn't allow his emotions to get in the way, the chances are that this man has no idea who he is, or the meeting they had all those years ago, even thought he was staring at him, well, he did try for intimidating. He should just be his usual cold self, today Antarctica is at the meeting not Mycroft.

"I share the sentiment Sergeant." His voice was cold all of sudden and Lewisham broke the tension.

"Well, meeting is about to start, shall we sit down?" They all turned to walked to the table, Greg made sure he chose a seat so that he was sitting opposite Mycroft. The whole meeting has been playing havoc with him, he seemed cordial when they men then he turned cold, and now he looked arrogant and superior. Greg had no idea what to make of it. He will use this time to study him, after all, after six years he needed more…so much more. His thought drifted to that meeting, Mycroft was still in a posh suit, like last time, impeccable members although not so much right now, but the hair, the face and eyes…it is all him.

Mycroft sat down, his heart and mind was both shaking and beating and just doing everything except thinking and beating the way it is supposed to. He couldn't understand how one person could do this to him? Six years. How the hell did his life come to this? How on earth is he supposed to focus on this meeting with that man sitting across from him? How is he supposed to move on and focus on this case knowing that man is working with him? Him and his girlfriend. What on earth did he mutter when they met? He hates this meeting; he should get an assistant…


	27. Chapter 27

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 5**

 **I can't let you go**

Greg's neck was aching, he has been spending the whole day with paperwork and files and reports and every other thing they could think of about the new case. It was a systematic information overload with the case and the Secret service and everything he needed to know to catch up. He had to not only figure a way out on how to do this case, but also how to handle Mycroft, because apparently, he didn't want to play according to the game, in fact, Greg is convinced he didn't want to play at all.

The meeting was to put it bluntly, horrible, it was one experience he didn't feel to repeat ever again. Lewisham was fine, Wells was fine, and everyone was fine and open, except MH. He imitated a statue that barely moved.

Greg sighed and put the papers down, how was he supposed to work with that man, if this is his behaviour, he seemed well-mannered, civilised to the point of a living dictionary imitation, yet he had this barrier of ice around him.

"Maybe he is shy…" Greg mumbled softly, after all, he is in the top secret society of civil service; it is not like he can be a social butterfly…unless it is called for. But Mycroft didn't look like he wanted to the centre of a group or discussion.

The point is, he didn't expect to be the man's best friend after one meeting, but come on….six years and this is what he gets!

He should probably be happy that at least he can finally add a name to the whole ordeal…he wasn't just a clean shirt and initial with the haunting eyes anymore.

Greg slid the papers across his desk in frustration and jumped up, turning around and stood before the window.

Why is he feeling like this? Why is that man affecting him so strongly? He had butterflies in his stomach, the whole time he felt like a teenager seeing a cute boy for the first time! How is that possible? What is Sandy going to say about it? Should he tell her?

He should probably, but on the other hand…seeing Mycroft woke something in him, something he felt only once…six years ago at a taxi. Would Sandy understand?

Mycroft sat in his office, the meeting still replying in his mind. He couldn't understand how after all this time, he saw the man again, one moment in the street and his entire life, mind and heart went in all different directions. That meeting was so strongly etched in his mind that his mind gave his desires and deep ache a face and name and a whole life…yes it was comatose…but it felt real. So real, even now, if he closes his eyes he can recall the dreams, he can recall Greg's laugh, the way he would look at Greg, and somehow, today, the real Greg, the Sergeant Greg gave him the fire-fighter Greg smile.

It wasn't fair, nor a coincidence, they don't exist.

The problem, what does he do now? In the meeting he went to his default setting, the ice persona, and the man who doesn't care, or doesn't feel. Antarctica is his shield, his way to cope and hide, so his brain can sort out the information. The only problem is, his brain is mixing the two now and making one stronger…at this moment unsure whether it is fire-fighter Greg that is stronger or Sergeant Greg. Either way, he is in for some serious inner turmoil and trouble, especially if he has to work with Greg. How on earth is he going to do that?

Greg slowly but surely made his way home, his mind still firmly occupied with Mycroft and the meeting. Every now and then, he had to force himself to keep his focus on the case, not the man… Wells said that he was excellent with legwork, and he knows he is, but his brain is sharp too, maybe not international spy level, but he gets the job done. His solve rate, along with Wells is the highest in the department and it is no secret it went up, when he joined the team.

The problem was that he never had a case like this before, it was on an international level, it crossed more jurisdictions than a ladder on a snake and ladder game set…and he had a vague suspicion, that he should use the metaphor snakes instead of ladders….

Still, money laundering, weapon trafficking, extortion…it is a difficult mix and together it is going to be one tough nut to crack.

He stopped.

He is doing this all wrong, he should start with what he knows, and what he knows is murder therefore he should start with the body. Smiling he felt better as he walked, there was a victim, the trader who was in charge of laundering or 'washing' the money, he could backtrack his records, see what connections there was and how he can follow it to his killer.

Tomorrow he will contact Mycroft and they can follow the money trial together, instead the other solution Mycroft suggested, where Greg do the legwork with the murder and he will do the money trail.

Nope…teamwork…and he will use every moment he can to make sure that he, Greg Lestrade get to know Mycroft as well as he can, come high or low…

He will show Mycroft and his little mind games, and his icy persona and hell every one of them, what the meaning of teamwork is. No one pushed neither the Yard, nor Greg aside and doesn't expect him to retaliate, in this case teamwork, in this case he would make Mycroft his new partner and Mycroft would just have to suck it up.

The first thing Mycroft did when he got home was to go into his kitchen and took out some fish out of the freezer, sprinkling it with some olive oil and Himalayan pink salt he put it in the oven and started making a light salad. His mind kept drifting in and out on the meeting, on Greg specifically and he was still no closer to a resolution to the problem.

Greg was stubborn, he could see it, and the man can practically tattoo it on his forehead, along with tenacious…brave…loyal…handsome…attractive…sexy…no wait…none of that, just stubborn and tenacious…and brave and loyal…the rest is none of his concern. He cannot afford to go there, Greg moved on with his life, he is in a relationship with a women for nearly two years…he Mycroft Holmes, has no place in there, he can't expect that after six years to claim any sort of hold on the man, so yes, his brain gave them a life…a good one…reality is still reality.

Greg is a temporarily assigned to be his partner with the case, and a possible future liaison between the two services, nothing more and nothing less. He will work with Greg, he has enough civil manners to make sure they will get along, but more than that…no.

He will keep that man at a distance, he will keep his ice walls well frozen and that would be it. Regardless of brown-eyed smiles and cheeky laughs….

Greg was humming when he finally entered his home and took off his jacket and made his way to the bedroom. On his way he stopped at the radio and put on one of his favourite cd's. He needed to put the suit away, until it was needed again. As he undressed he thought back to Mycroft, while occasionally glancing to his wardrobe. The man seemed so different…he had this image of this man, and now he realised he placed him on a pedestal, that now that he met the man, it all seemed so different. Could it be that he had it wrong all these years?

 _Your own personal Jesus  
Someone to hear your prayers  
Someone who cares  
Your own personal Jesus  
Someone to hear your prayers  
Someone who's there_

Greg sat back down on the bed, half undressed, he was so motivated as he came home, now all of sudden he felt unmotivated, down and a little bit restless. He could understand that Mycroft was used to the fact that he could do his own thing, that he was used to be alone and doing things alone, but was it really necessary to treat him like that? To be so cold?

Frankly, the man acted like a nob, a jerk and a real arsehole. Not bothering with showering anymore he pulled on his tracksuit and t-shirt. The overwhelming desire for a glass of whiskey was calling louder than the shower.

The first sip was enough to calm his nerves; the second sip made him a little less unmotivated and took some anger away. He kept wondering why he lost so many years, so many thoughts to a man like that. Why did he place him on such a high pedestal anyway? How could he spend so many years after a moment that backfired so spectacularly?

The more the glass contents lessened, the higher his disappointment and pain got. Talk about inverse proportions.

The fish was a disaster, Mycroft spend so much time thinking about the case – Greg – that he burned his fish into a beautiful imitation of coal, the crustiness, the crumbs of black everywhere with the twirling smoke – all perfect. A coal miner would be proud. The salad was not much better, apparently there is only so much salt and pepper needed for taste, not to mention salad dressing…his tomato did some deep sea evacuation in all the dressing.

Throwing it away he knew that he has a serious problem on his hands, he can't allow Greg to influence him like this, to take control of his thoughts and mind like this.

Nothing will come of it, Greg moved on, Greg has a life now; it is only him, that should get the memo. Sighing he leaned against the counter, if it wasn't for the blasted kidnapping and torture, he never would've been in a coma, and his mind never would've conquer up this life, this dream he kept so hidden.

He only wished he knew how to 'delete' memories like his dear little brother. But he won't, he knew he wouldn't do that. His dream with his fire-fighter Greg is some days the only thing keeping him sane. He gave a hollow laugh, ironic; a comatose dream keeps him sane.

Greg wasn't sure how he ended up back in his bedroom, on the floor next to his open wardrobe. There in a box, hidden away in the corner was a shirt, a neatly folded shirt with two initials. Surrounded by a very old telephone papers, the rest of the book was long gone, only pages with an 'M' or 'H' survived. It was riddles with pen scratches and question marks and small doodles in the corner, the last remnants of a man seeking a man.

Greg eyed the papers and the shirt.

He should've known…a spy will never be in a phone book…he had no chance. His chance was gone before he even had it. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. How was he supposed to know? What is he supposed to do now? How do you get wasted moments back? How do you get back the little hope that kept hoping for six years?

 _Take second best  
Put me to the test  
Things on your chest  
You need to confess  
I will deliver  
You know I'm a forgiver_

 _Reach out and touch faith  
Reach out and touch faith_

Sandy eyed her watch; it was just after ten pm and after two emergency surgeries back to back, exhausted her. She was tired and really just wanted her bed. Eyeing her phone she was a little nervous that she didn't received any calls from Greg. He was supposed to call her, he said he would. He was quite nervous this morning about the meeting and he said he would call her as soon as he could, and he never did.

She was getting worried; it was unlike him to not keep his word. Making her mind up, she headed for the Tube to make a quick turn at his place; she will just make sure everything was in order. Greg was a good man, ever since that moment he asked her out when she removed his stitches, they became best friends, that escalated to lovers and now in all sense they were a couple, however it was a name that neither one of them used.

She was like him in the sense that both want to be free, Greg would commit, but it would have to be the right person, and she is not sure, that she is that person. She has never seen herself married with the kids and dog and the whole ordeal. She loves the idea of going wherever she wants to, when she wants to. Like the Mercy Ships in South Africa, that was some of the best time of her life. It was endless challenges and pressure but it was brilliant. She wanted to be a surgeon ever since she was a girl, and helping people through surgery makes her happy, more than marriage and kids will.

That is one of the reasons she enjoyed being with Greg so much, none of them had that inkling to settle down yet, they have been together for nearly two years and still none of them mentioned moving in together or taking it further, and that is how she likes it, she knew deep down she was made for a different world, one without limitations and restrictions. She should talk to him, she should explain this to Greg, but she had a feeling he knew this, that's why he is not pressuring her into something none of them were ready for.

Still, she can't help but to feel a sense of guilt, she should really one day sit with him and talk. Communication is important.

They need to be open with each other, before the hurt and resentment and regret tear them apart. They are wonderful friends and she does not want to lose that.

She was so in thought that when she looked up, she was at his place. Taking a breath she rang the doorbell. There was music in the background, but no one was answering. She rang again. After the third time, she took out her set of keys and unlocked the door.

Once inside she could hear the music were loud, but not overwhelming. The overhead lights were off, except for a small lamp and the glow from the main bedroom. Putting her handbag down she made her way over to his room.

"Greg?" She softly asked, but didn't receive an answer. As she came closer she could hear Greg's voice, but no one else. She walked inside the bedroom and stopped. Surprised to find Greg sitting down on the floor there were scattered pieces around him and a half empty bottle of whiskey.

"Greg?" She asked again and this time he heard her, he looked up to her, a smile on his face.

"Sands….g…d ev…ing." Sandy closed her eyes. Greg was drunk, that hardly ever happened, so something must have upset him.

She made her way over to him and grouched down. Greg held out the shirt, crinkled on the floor.

"Let…me indroduce you Sands…."

"Greg, what happened? What's going on?"

Greg waved her away and patted the floor next to him, obediently she sat down.

"My best friend this…" He pointed to the shirt.

"Why are you drunk?"

Greg shook his head.

"Not drunk, just talking…old times…with me friend…"

"There's no one here, except us."

Greg looked down to the shirt, his fingers softly caressing the material, and heavy feeling sat in Sandy's stomach.

"I may be a little drunk, but not nearly drunk enough to forget today…to know what happened…to put a name to this…finally…the shirt isn't mine…"

"Whose shirt is this?" She asked softly. Greg looked at her and the look in his eyes nearly made her cry, it was so sad, so heart-breaking.

"A guy I met once….six years ago in the street, I was a Constable…."

Sandy listened as Greg poured his heart out to her, telling her about a brief moment that happened six years ago, yet had such a profound effect on him. He told her about how he tried to find him, how he searched the phone book, she closed her eyes as his cracking voice asked her how was he ever supposed to stand a chance with a spy who wasn't in phonebook?


	28. Chapter 28

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 6**

 **How do you measure moments?**

There was a subtle shift in the relationship between Greg and Sandy, both knew it, he told her something he never told anyone before, and she knew that the story he told her, was a secret he didn't plan on sharing with anyone. As if a mutual agreement, both didn't mention that night again, they forgot about it and pretend it never happened.

So life went on, Greg had a massive hangover but composed himself and moved on. He and Mycroft have been working together now for nearly three weeks, and so far without major incident, nor did either mentioned the fact that they met all those years ago. It was civilised and professional to the point that both wanted to scream their heads off.

The progress on the case was great, they somehow managed to get to the point where they case was nearly closed. Work that would've taken them several weeks was being accomplished in half that time. Both knew they work excellent together, both knew that there was sizzling of something under the surface between them, but none of them acted on it. They swept it under the rug and moved on.

Somewhere something's have to give, the water can only stay so long on the hot plate before it boils, yet both were content to swim leisurely along.

It was dark, the moon hiding behind a skyline of buildings, the small lamps on the street were on, and the park was mostly dark. Sherlock preferred it that way, the less people – and CCTV brother sees the better. He knew he wasn't supposed to be here, if anyone finds out, he would be in trouble and his security would double. It is not always easy to have a Big Brother who is constantly worrying about you. Sighing he walked a little deeper into a shadow covered path, he should probably not be so hard on his brother but then again, his brother was an idiot who meddled and Sherlock always loved a challenge.

He stopped, somewhere in front of him, the leaves moved, someone was there. His handler told him about a new drug on the market 'black sky' and he wanted to try it, he'll use half, the rest he will experiment on, get the recipe and make his own, it's cheaper that way.

"Shaz…" The gruff voice broke through the silence. Sherlock rolled his eyes, he hated that nickname.

"Here." He replied, and then he saw two men appearing in the path, Sherlock narrowed his eyes, there were supposed to be only one. Never mind, he just want what he came for, pay for it and leave.

The two men approach him and Sherlock had a bad feeling, the guy with the drugs looked already high and that he could see he was jittery and unstable. He must have taken the drug with alcohol, idiot. He will need to be calm and get this over quickly as he could. He needed to get away from this man as soon as possible. Handlers and drugs don't go together; you can't use your own merchandise and expect good business. He glanced around, they shouldn't have met so deep in park, it was too dark.

Sherlock took out his wallet and opened, taking a few notes.

"Fifty as agreed…" He held out the notes. Sherlock's handler handed him the small packet with the powder and the other hand took the notes. He lifted it to his nose and inhaled deeply.

"Aaaw love me the smell of money…how about you give me the rest…." Sherlock put the powder in his pocket along with his wallet.

"No, the agreed price is fifty, if I'm satisfied I will contact you again for more, and we can discuss the price again. Business is business as they would say…" The man's eyes glittered in the dark, and his mouth turned into a snarl.

"I want more…you're posh blokes think you can rip us normal folks…not me…"

"I didn't rip you off, we agreed on a price, I paid it happily, now excuse me." Sherlock turned around to walk away, taking big steps with his long legs, to get away as quickly as possible, the man is very unpredictable and he didn't want to stay in his proximity any more than what is necessary. He gave about five steps when the first blow came, it hit him just below the neck and the force drove him to his knees. The first kick hit him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Adrenalin kicked in and he thought back, he knew the basics but not nearly enough to overpower these two. He was aware of a sharp pain in his side before he fell down; one of them grabbed his wallet from his pocket before they ran off into the dark. His hands clutched his side and he could feel warm liquid covering his hands. He has been stabbed. The last thing he remembered before passing out was 'oh shit…Mycroft isn't going to be too happy.'

Sandy has a set routine before she starts a shift. It is not a superstition but just like any other doctor and nurse, she has a set way of doing things and does it every time. Picking up her stethoscope she left the locker rooms and made her way to the ER, making her regular stop at the coffee machine to get that kick-start for the day – or night.

Picking up her coffee she couldn't help but think back to Greg, this is the same coffee machine where she met him the second time, when he bought her coffee. Greg who is such a wonderful man, and she knows she is very lucky to have him in her life. Sighing she looked down to the liquid, he has been so different lately. Ever since that night she found him drunk, with a stranger's T-shirt and him telling her the story behind the shirt and initials. Six years…he held on to that moment…try as she might, she can't remember if there was ever a brief moment like that in her life that had such an impact on her life, so many years later.

They never talked again about that night, they both moved on, and acted like nothing happened, but something did. Greg was working more, putting in the extra hours to solve this case, she knew this would enhance his career, he was very ambitious and this could guarantee that he would be the on-call guy next time of this proportion shows up. A part of her also wondered if it was because of this 'Mycroft' but considering how Greg complained on Mycroft's treatment towards Greg, and his disappointment in Mycroft and the whole situation, she pushed that idea aside. Maybe he is putting in the extra hours and effort to solve the case sooner so he doesn't have to work with Mycroft anymore. She could see it was hurting him, the way Mycroft was cold and calculated towards him, treating him 'too civil and cordial' according to Greg. That it was a chore dealing with Greg and that Mycroft hated it, but had no choice.

Greg was sad by it, and even though he didn't say anything, Sandy knew that, that is destroying him. For six years he had this mirage, this image of a man, a moment and now reality is covering that warm and fond memory is shades if ice and pain.

The worse of it all was that there was nothing she could do to ease that pain, Greg told her about his past relationships both with women and men, but he never once told her about Mycroft, how could he?

Sally felt useless, try as she might, she just couldn't think of a way to help Greg, to take this pain away, to give him some closure, she can just sat back and hope they solve the case a quickly as possible so he can get out of their lives and move on…but is that what she wants? Will she be okay with Mystery-Ice-man-Holmes out of their lives…is Greg going to feel compelled to move on and settle down? Can they go back to what they were before? A supposed happy couple, but not really? It's been three weeks and she knew Greg changed, and this experience changed him, it felt as though some part of him, some part of what they had slipped away. If she has to be completely honest with herself, they would never go back to what they were before. It wasn't enough anymore. Greg realised there was more to relationship, more than just the moments they had together, some part of him has grown into the desire for more, and she wasn't sure that is what she wanted…she knew it wasn't what she wanted…but she can't hurt him, she needs to find a way to help him.

" **Doctor Madison to ER! Trauma bay 2. Doctor Madison to ER. Trauma bay2!"**

Startled she nearly dropped her cup as her name was called. Dropping the empty cup in the waste basket she run towards the trauma unit. Adrenalin pumped through veins, this is what she lived for!

Once inside she saw a young man, tall and slim with an unruly set of curls on the bed, fighting for his life. His clothes were covered in blood.

"Status?" She yelled as she pulled on her gloves.

"Male, early twenties, stab wound, bleeding out, found in park, drugs on him, history of drugs but clean for now." The nurse yelled back as they worked. Sandy yelled back for medicine, blood tests and necessary procedures to help the young man.

It took her four hours to get the young man stable, he was stabbed in the abdomen, main organs were missed but he lost a lot of blood. There was some internal bleeding but in the end pulled through. He will need to stay in hospital for a few days, but he is expected to make a full recovery. The drugs however, is another story, she can only hope he gets help for that, she did her part, she saved his life, but to keep it is up to him.

She watched as they moved him to the care unit, the nurse said, his brother is here and would like to get a personalised update. Making sure she was clean as possible she picked up his file and made her way to speak to the brother.

Mycroft got the call just after two in the morning; he only slept for an hour. He was quite impressed with how the case was proceeding and with Greg's capabilities. He could understand why Lewisham and Wells insisted on him. He has excellent skills, he gets along with everyone – except him, but that's Mycroft's doing – he is very quick to connect links and has a tenacity that can rival a bulldog. He is always ready to work or to calm someone in the brink of hysteria. He could also see that he is extremely ambitious but will go the right way, the long way, Greg was determined to be the best he could be, and Mycroft knew, that Greg will be an excellent intermediary between the two agencies, if only Mycroft could forget him, or move on.

Greg would greet him with that ridiculously amazing smile, his eyes dancing with mirth when he cracks a code or made a connection. He would run his hands through his hair several times a day, and it would drive Mycroft nuts, because the streaks of hair in every direction would make him ten times more handsome. He has this warm personality that makes everyone in a ten foot radius of the man, calm and relaxed. It was to put it bluntly extremely distracting. He needs to work extra hard to keep that ice mask on, to push away instead of pulling away. The tidal of Greg is drowning him, and he doesn't know how much longer he can go against the tide before surrendering.

Luckily he had Sherlock to break his little happy bubble and get himself stabbed and instead of worrying about the case and Greg he can sit in the early mornings of the day, next to his brother's pale form in hospital and wonder how he can help his brother.

Sandy stopped in the hallway as she read the file. Her young stabbing victim was Sherlock Holmes, a twenty-three year old chemistry student with a drug addiction and flair for drama. His next of kin was his brother and that's why she stopped. M Holmes. No name but she knew it was Mycroft; it was Greg's mystery man. The ice-man who is working with Greg and giving him a hard time. As the anger run through her veins she couldn't wait to tell Mycroft a few things but that all changed when she saw him. He was tall, so tall and slim, looking immaculate at three in the morning in a three piece suit; he was holding an umbrella, the fingers white as it held the umbrella, somehow the only thing keeping him grounded as he stood in front of the bed. His face was drawn in grief, deep etches of worry and sadness around his eyes, he was heartbroken, grieving for his brother and she knew, it was for more than just the stabbing. How can she be angry now?

She made her way inside and was surprised to find that the moment Mycroft knew she was there, how his face changed. It went to neutral and impassive in less than a second. This man was a master at hiding his emotions.

"Mr. Holmes?" She asked softly and stepped closer to him. Mycroft gave a small nod and held out his hand.

"Mycroft Holmes. Sherlock's older brother and his next of kin. I understand you are the surgeon who saved him?" She didn't know how he knew it was her, but she did. She shook his hand

"Yes, I'm Doctor Madison, would you like to talk in here or would you like to step out?"

"Here is fine." He replied and turned back to Sherlock.

"He had drugs on him?"

With a nod she quickly explained to him the situations, how he was found, and the extent of his injuries and what she did to save him. She saw how he tried but failed as moments of pain and grief filled his eyes, how the frown deepened on his forehead, how he radiated of disappointment, of guilt of a man trying his best to help his brother but was not succeeding. He seemed lost for a brief moment as he looked away trying to keep his façade. The white knuckles on his fingers gave him away, but Sandy didn't mention it, she pretended that she didn't see it yet her heart ached as she saw his eyes. Greg was right it was so blue, and right now it was dark with worry. She knew that however he acts at work or with people it was a mask, Greg said he was a spy, and well everyone knew how they receive training to hide their emotions and what they really feel. She couldn't help but wonder why this man, so full of worry and emotions for his brother would be so cold towards a man like Greg. There has to be more to the story.

When she was finished he turned to her, with a hard determined look in her eyes.

"I'm staying her with him."

"You can really go home, there's not much you can do here, besides it is against policy."

"I'm staying Doctor Madison." Mycroft replied while looking at his brother his voice set and she knew there was no way she could persuade him.

"Is he in pain?" Mycroft asked tiredly

"No, he is heavily sedated; he is not feeling anything at the moment."

"That's good, he looks peaceful, can patients dream while this heavily sedated?"

"It's difficult to say, everyone is different but the chances is good that at this level of sedation, he may experience dreams, just like comatose patients. It is hard to tell, everyone is different."

"Yes...let's hope he dreams good dreams…otherwise let's hope he doesn't dream at all…sometimes no dreams is better than good dreams." He softly added more to himself.

"Why's that?" Sandy asked her voice soft. Mycroft turned to her.

"Because sometimes you remember it, and reality just never compares to it. Anyway…I thank you once again for your help, I will stay a bit, before I need to go into the office, you can call me if anything changes, anything at all." Mycroft held out one of his cards as he spoke and Sandy took it, once again surprised to find how quickly he can change from wistful to business like. He was an enigma, and she could understand why Greg was so taken in. Greg had a few seconds, she had a few minutes, yet she knew she will not forget it for a very long time. There was something about this man, that made her heart soft for him, he is hiding more than just behind a mask, it is like he is hiding his soul and she knew that Mycroft hits a spot in her heart that she won't let go.


	29. Chapter 29

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 7**

 **When worlds collide**

Greg tried his best to get some sort of solid ground with Mycroft, he was always feeling that he was a rudder in an ocean and Mycroft was like a storm pushing and pulling him without an island in sight. It was driving him insane; this past few weeks working with him has been the best of his life, and the worse. He couldn't remember any other time in his life that he felt so conflicted at the same time.

On one hand Greg was working with one of the smartest men he ever met, a man who made an impression on him, even before they ever said a word. One minute, one street and one moment was all it took. On the other hand, there was this invisible barrier between them and he had no idea how to breach it. With all his other colleagues and friends they would have been friends by now, sharing a pint and discussing the case. Not here. They were like the sun and moon if he could use it as a metaphor; both shining light but keep on missing each other within an arm's reach.

The worse was that Greg knew with a certainty that the distance was because of Mycroft, it was as if he tried so hard to keep this façade, a mask on his face that he won't slip off. He felt it with every fibre of his being; that there was more than what Mycroft was letting on. More to the man, than what he allows to be seen. The problem was, that the longer they worked together, the more he could see, and pieces of the man breaking through and the harder it was to rebuild that mask.

They slowly made progress, Mycroft may not be the boy he met at the cab anymore, but he is the man who held the boy deep inside him, and that boy sometimes wants to break out. He could feel in the warm gaze Mycroft would give him, when Greg isn't looking at him. He was a cop; he knew when someone was staring at him.

Greg sighed and ran his hands through his hair, he mustn't give up, with every warm glance and secret look he knew he must keep on hoping, and keep believing that someday, he will see the man without the mask.

Four weeks later and the case was nearly closed, Mycroft and Greg worked well together and both of their superiors were impressed and already making plans that they should keep putting them together for future projects and cases. Right now both were standing outside a house, the house came up on their radar and their tactical team needed a way in. A valid reason to go in without a warrant and it was provided in the way of a drugs bust. Turns out that can pretty much get you anywhere. Greg knew that what they were looking for was in that house. The owner is a well-respected man, a CEO in a well-known insurance company with branches all over Europe. The perfect cover and the perfect cover for dealing. He looked at Mycroft and with a nod Greg led the team into the house. He was in charge.

The raid was a blazing success, as a bonus the team actually found drugs and hidden weapons that makes their case even stronger than before. Mycroft went into the kitchen to make a call and Greg watch as one of the men tied up the CEO and the rest as they collected all the evidence and carried it out to their van. They were quick and efficient and within five minutes everything was out of the house on the way to the evidence locker room for processing. Greg joined Mycroft in the kitchen to get the latest update on Mr CEO and whether to take him to the Yard or the Spooks layout as Greg called it…in his mind...he wouldn't dare to sever the fragile relationship between them with a remark like that. He watch as Mycroft put the phone away, he knew Mycroft couldn't wait to get his hands on the man, to pick his brain, something tells him Mycroft is excellent at questioning.

"You did a good job Gregory." Greg felt the rush of the compliment; Mycroft's voice was even softer and more caring. He still have no idea on why Mycroft insists on calling him Gregory, he once said he can use 'Greg' but Mycroft got this faraway look that disappeared and immediately gave him a cold look and walked away. He didn't try again.

"Thank you, but you know it was a joined effort." He replied, waving his hand away.

"Yes, but it was your intuition that brought us here, it was one hell of leap, but it paid off." Mycroft stated and Greg raised his eyes to look, genuinely look at Mycroft, he was different, more open and sincere and it was turning Greg's insides to mush. Mycroft stared back, taking in the sincerity of Greg's face as he replied.

"Thank you. It means a lot to me." He frowned slightly.

"Why would it?" Greg face got a slight blush of embarrassment as he answered.

"Well, I don't take you for a man who gives out compliments like rain in the rain season, unless it is truly warranted, so I appreciate it that you think that."

This time it was Mycroft who blushed and smiled.

"Another impressive deduction."

"Wow…." He whispered to himself.

"What?" Mycroft asked, confusing.

"It's nothing we should get going." Greg tried and turned around to walk away when Mycroft grabbed his arm and turned him around, they were standing quite close.

"What is it?"

"It's just, this is the first time since were working together that you're not talking to me as if you swallowed ice cubes, it is a very nice change…"

Mycroft let go of his arm, his eyes widening slightly and he stepped back as if shocked, he knew he shouldn't be surprised after all, he went out of his way to be civil and distant with Gregory but he didn't think that it would affect Gregory this much, he seemed relieved that Mycroft actually was capable of talking to him as if he was person and not some man he was working with. He jumped when Greg took his arm this time and look into those brown eyes that looked worried and nervous.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean for it to sound like that."

"I didn't mean it…to be cold…I had to…" Mycroft uttered and then stopped immediately, he almost confessed everything to Gregory, one look in those eyes and he would've spilled the whole sad story. He couldn't.

"What do you mean?" Greg asked his voice soft and filled with concern, he knew he was onto something, Mycroft acted this way towards him for a reason, and he must know what it is. Mycroft opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out, his eyes were locked on Greg's brown eyes and somehow their eyes were doing the talking now. There was hesitation, and hope…a shared moment that both wants to bring up, to bring to light but scared that it will push each other away.

They stared for some time, Mycroft's skin burning where Gregory was holding on to him and he just wants to call him Greg, like in his dream and hold him, but he can't. This wasn't a dream. His dream was a different world from this one.

Greg knew he had to do something or he will never get this moment again, and reached his other hand up to Mycroft when the front door burst open and the sound of an invasion assaulted their ears. Both jumped away and rushed to the living room to watch as their tactical team was shooting at five intruders with machine guns. Not thinking twice they lifted their weapons and joined the fire fight.

The threat was neutralized very quickly with no casualties or serious damage to their tactical team, the five men however, weren't so lucky those not dead but would soon be without immediate medical help. Greg sighed loudly, that was one hell of an adrenaline rush, he wasn't part something like this in years, he looked at his weapon and put it back in his holster, he turned to look at Mycroft with a big smile on his face. Mycroft put his gun away and looked at Greg, smiling warmly at him. He took a step towards Greg when Greg's eyes widen in fear, there was a small red dot on Mycroft's chest. Mycroft narrowed his eyes and wanted to ask why he was so scared when Greg's body collided with him, the same moment when there was loud shot and shattering of a window.

Mycroft groaned as he fell towards the ground Greg's body impacted his with quite some force. In the distance he could hear a loud 'clear!' and knew the team secured the area. He looked down to the mop of brown hair next to his shoulder that hadn't moved. And ice-cold wave run through his veins and settled on his stomach.

"Greg." No reply.

Using his arms he pushed Greg off him and gasped. Mycroft whole torso was red and wet with blood. He looked at Greg who was pale and his eyes were half closed.

"Eeegg." Greg groaned out and Mycroft got to his knees and ripped his shirt open. There were two holes in his upper chest, on the left side blood gushing out.

"Call an ambulance!" He yelled to the team who called it in. Mycroft picked up the nearest blanket and pressed down on the wounds.

"Gregory!" He yelled and saw two eyes trying to focus on him.

"My…"

"The ambulance is on its way, just hold on." Greg gave a nod and lifted his one hand and put it on Mycroft's who open his hand and held Greg's.

"Typical…get you….to…warmup…..to..me and get…m'self…shot…." Greg mumbled through breaths.

"Save your strength…don't speak." Mycroft instructed saving the 'My' and the 'warm up' comment for later, right now he needed to focus. He didn't even register that he called him Greg.

"Suppose..to..bleed..s..much?" Greg tried his eyes looking at the red stained blanket.

"Gregory…" Mycroft replied bending down more to take his pulse in Greg's neck. He momentarily let go of the blanket. Greg stared in his eyes and smiled.

"Still as blue as I remember…."

"What?" Mycroft asked he had no idea what Greg is trying to say.

"Eyes…at the cab…blue orbs….of endless….sky….smile…again…please…" Greg mumbled and then closed his eyes. Mycroft was stunned, but quickly recovered when he the pulse faded.

"Gregory!" He yelled as the paramedics burst in.


	30. Chapter 30

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 8**

 **Please hold on, this isn't over yet**

Sandy was happy, tired but happy; her shift would end in less than five hours. As much as she loved her job, after three days straight on trauma call she was ready for her day off. First of all, she would take a long bath with bubbles and then some food that wasn't mass produced and served in a small plastic triangle holder with an expiry date. Looking around the place she was once again reminded on how different the patients are between day and night. During the day, you would get the 'Jimmy pushed a toy up his nose' or the occasional car accident, work injury, food poisonings and so on…the night…that brought the darker ailments, the stabbings, the shootings, the drunk drivers and the overdoses…

Her phone rang sharply and startles her out of her thoughts.

"Hello?" She answered on instinct.

"Dr. Madison?" The cold and hurried voice came over the phone.

"Yes, who is this?"

"Mycroft Holmes, you saved my brother Sherlock the other day."

"Yes, oh hi, how can I help you?" She asked to the point, there was something in his voice that told her he was seriously concern and very worried, she hoped it wasn't his brother again. She didn't even ask him how he got her number, but then again Greg says he is a spy, so it shouldn't be too hard to get it.

"Are you on duty?"

"Yes..bu.."

"I'm bringing my colleague the paramedic says we will arrive in eight minutes, I need you to save him. He was shot twice in the chest." Without waiting for any confirmation he hangs up. Sandy stared at the phone stunned. He called her, his colleague….

"Oh God no." She exclaimed.

"Greg." Greg was his colleague and he was shot! She ran as fast as she could to the ER doors, screaming orders and nurses to help her and get everything ready. She called in for spare blood, good thing she knew Greg's type and medical history, this time it would be more than just stiches in his hand.

Mycroft put the phone back in his pocket and stared at the man in front of him. He insisted on going with the ambulance and they didn't object. Greg flat lined once on the way but so far he was stable.

The paramedics had cut away his shirt and undershirt and his chest was open. The hair on his chest was dark black stripes as it mixed with the blood, darkening his skin and drying in parts. There were two gauzes on each wound on his back and one in front, Mycroft only realised that one bullet is still inside his chest. He also had an oxygen mask on his face and a blood pressure monitor on his finger.

Mycroft was scared and was trying really hard to hide it. Gregory had nearly died already and he still wasn't out of the woods. He kept thinking about how Greg didn't even think twice before he pushed Mycroft away. He hope Dr Madison is as good as her qualifications and degrees says she is…she is the only one he could think off that would be able to save him. He looked down towards his watch, three minutes left, and Greg was still holding on. He didn't want to compare real Greg and his fire-fighter Greg but if he has too, he hoped that real Greg would have the stubbornness and tenacity to keep fighting like his fire-fighter Greg had.

Sandy was waiting at the door; her watch said another three minutes, it already felt like ten hours and she knew out of experience three minutes is going to feel like three weeks or months. Her blood was boiling with adrenaline and worry, gun shots are tricky, always have been and always will be. Greg had two, in his chest…she closed her eyes and forced herself to relax, to get her mind-set right, and she can't think of terms of her boyfriend, she must think in terms of a patient. She has done this before, and she can do it….deep breaths…

In….out…..in….out….

The screeching of tyres broke her mantra of in and out and she turned to see the ambulance stopping in front of the doors, the back doors burst open as they came out with Greg, Mycroft was walking with them, his eyes searching for her and then back to Greg. She stopped for a moment; he was covered in a lot of blood but that expression on his face…that was shaking her to the core.

She looked towards the man on the stretcher that was wheeled in and she faltered for a moment before she started to work on auto.

"Stats." She asked, her focus on Greg…no the man…

"Stable, flat line once. 33year, male. Two gunshot wounds on upper chest , right side, blood pressure low…." They rambled of the stats and she took it all in.

"Okay, take him to trauma bay 1, surgery already prepared and waiting, spare blood ready." She turned back to Mycroft who was staring at the bed as it wheeled down the hallway into the necessary theatre.

"Mycroft?"

He didn't acknowledge her, just tried to keep breathing and not to completely break down in front of everyone.

"Mycroft." She tried a little harder and touched his arm, one spot that wasn't covered in blood. He slowly turned to her, the mask visible setting over his face.

"Dr. Madison. Can I wait here?" She nodded.

"The waiting room is over there, I will allow you to stay and as a next of kin, and make sure you get regular updates, but the surgery will be long, if you don't mind I suggest you go and get cleaned up and come back." As if she spoke for the first time he looked down to his clothes to see the blood.

"I have to go he is waiting for me." Squeezing his arm briefly she rushed back into surgery room about to save her man…the man…

Inside they already prepared him and she can just take her scalpel and get to work. She looked at his pale face, eyes closed.

"Draw the curtain over his face please."

Mycroft stared for several minutes and then slowly walked towards the waiting room, he noticed that the nurses and everyone really was giving him looks and he knew it was the blood. Dr Madison was right, he needed to get cleaned up, dry blood is hard to get of your skin, and it's Greg's that makes it worse. Now that his attention was on the blood it felt like it was burning his skin, just like the brown eyes was burning his soul. Taking his phone from his pocket he called for a car, if he goes now and clean up, he will be back in less than an hour. It was with long and devastated steps that he walked out the hospital.

Once under the shower he made the water as hot as possible, scrubbing his skin raw and red under the spray. The water flowing down the drain was red with Greg's diluted blood.

" _Typical, get you to warm up to me and get myself shot."_ Greg's voice was breaking through the rushing of water out the faucet and Mycroft gasped. He tried so hard to keep Greg at a distance, to not let him in, he couldn't if he saw Greg once and it made such an impact that his traumatic brain gave him a dream so real, what power would Greg have if he let him in? If he allows Greg to become a friend, whom he doesn't want, he can never be just friends with Greg, not that man.

" _Still as blue as I remember."_ Bending over from the shock he allowed the hot water splash against his back and trailing down his legs. He remembers Mycroft, he remembers the moment they had six years ago. Is it really possible that he was not the only one who felt the importance of that meeting? Can it be that even now six years later, he is not the only one to hang on to that moment as if would save them?

" _Eyes at the cab, blue orbs of endless sky."_ Did he compare Mycroft's eyes to the sky? Endless blue skies…he said. You don't say that about any person or any random person six years later. Wrapping his arms around his now clean torso, he hugged himself tightly as the emotions overwhelmed him. He yelled into the water, as a fresh wave of tears run down his face.

Mycroft had made it back at the hospital under an hour, all traces of his mini breakdown in the shower was gone. The mask firmly on his face, the three-piece suit like a knight's armour in a dark black on his body. The umbrella strong in his hand. A nurse came out and told him that the surgery so far is doing well; Greg is strong and fighting back. He is still alive. He didn't sit down as he waited for news; he was standing and pacing the floor, occasionally glancing at the door, waiting for a new update like food to a starving man. The room was empty, none of Greg's colleagues, friends or family was there, not even the girlfriend he deduced, and like him Greg was alone. No matter how he feels or who it would break him he would stay and be there. Someone has to be there for him.


	31. Chapter 31

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 9**

 **Behind the curtains**

Mycroft had decided after standing for an hour, pacing another hour, that maybe he should sit down. Sitting down he would be able to go into his Mind Palace. In there, it would be safe and he can process everything at a calm rate, instead of the anxious, nervous pacing he is doing now. It just makes things worse.

Closing his eyes he went back to his anatomy files, the torso area, and his mind started with the skeleton and adding the organs and muscles layer by layer until the skin and then finally two bullets bursting through the skin. As the bullet travel through the chest the surrounding layers disappears until one is right through, the other digging into the scapula bone, cracking the bone, it will be fractured, painful and take some time to heal. The torso receded and the neck came into view, then the head. No, skull, just the tan face of Gregory, the spikey hair, the goofy smile and the brown eyes. He was looking at Mycroft and was reaching out his hand, he cupped Mycroft's cheek.

"Just as blue as I remember. You do realise you shouldn't feel guilty right?"

Mycroft opened his eyes. The image was gone and the room still empty. Sighing deeply he ran his hands over his face and tried to calm himself again.

Sandy took a deep breath, the surgery was over, finally, it took her six hours plus recovery time on Greg's behalf to get it all done. One bullet was a through and through, it damaged some muscles and ligaments with therapy, should be fine. The other one lodge itself in his scapula bone, causing a deep fracture that is most certainly going to take longer to heal. He will need to take it easy for at least six weeks, no strenuous activity or gym or fieldwork. The bone needs to heal properly otherwise it may cause him problems in his later years. But Greg can be one stubborn man.

She was tired and exhausted never in her life was she so focused on saving a patient, so into her work, her study days came back and she would mentally list the things she would need to do. She even did the stitches and stayed in the recovery room, till he could breathe comfortably without too much aid. She finally let him go, feeling peace and calm that she did all that she could.

As they took him to his room, she removed her scrubs and took a moment to just relax and stretch her muscles. Her thought went back to Mycroft who is still waiting in the recovery room. She should go tell him it is all over. Damn, she still remembers his face as they brought him in, that utter devastation in his eyes. In honesty it scared her; she knew Greg and Mycroft weren't that close as he would tell her constantly how he struggles to get through to the man.

She wondered what lead to the shooting. Wondered if something happened that gave Mycroft that look, or has he been hiding it since day one? Could he be hiding his emotions all this time? One thing was sure, life was certainly weird, a few weeks ago she saved his brother's life and that was enough to make her the only person he trusted with Greg, his colleague. She wondered if he knew that she was dating Greg. Mycroft didn't say anything when they met a few weeks ago, nor did Greg mention that Mycroft met her. She knew they don't really talk, and with the story Greg told her about Mycroft, would he want Mycroft to know, that they were together. As she walked down to the waiting room she knew three things that were as certain as day, Mycroft feels something for Greg, Greg feels something for Mycroft, she is somehow stuck in the middle and must have a very serious talk with Greg, as soon as possible.

Mycroft jumped up as soon as the door opened, Dr Madison walked in and he could see the exhaustion on her face, her shift was close to end when Greg came in. He could also see that Greg survived, but wasn't out of the woods yet.

"Dr. Madison…"

"Sandy please, I think after today you can call me Sandy." She answered with a tired smile.

"How's Gr…Sergeant Lestrade?" Sandy pretended not to notice the slip up.

"Alive. Stubborn man that. He lost a lot of blood but we were able to replace that quickly, one bullet went straight through, the other lodged in his scapula bone. He has a long road of recovery in front of him, but he should make a full recovery, if he behaves and take it easy. He was very lucky."

Mycroft nodded at the news, most of the tension, seeping out of his shoulders.

"We are both lucky; he saved my life by jumping in front of me."

Sandy's mouth fell open in shock, what did he just say?

"I'm sorry what?" She asked without preamble. Mycroft looked at her.

"The bullets were meant for me, he saw the red lights and pushed me down the floor with his body, he has quite an impact force, even if I have to admit it. I don't know why he did it though." He added softly, the last part more to himself. Sandy was shocked, she knew why he did it, yes because of whom he was protecting, but Greg was a protector, he would do it for anyone. She looked back at Mycroft and had a sudden urge to shake him, how can he be so oblivious?

"Well, you're partners and it is usual behaviour between mates…"

"We're not mates…" Mycroft quickly responded, pulling his face as he said the word 'mates' as if he never said it before. Sandy shook her head slightly.

"I think you are. But if it would make you feel better…..he will make a full recovery." She was so close to say Greg would do it for anyone, but then Mycroft would ask how she would know. He still gave her a look but nodded. She needed to get home and get some rest, but knew she would only leave after staying with Greg a bit, maybe Mycroft would like to stay, then she can get some rest…

"If you'd like you can see him, and sit with him for a while?"

He nodded and his thoughts once again turned to Greg's family, or lack thereof, no one was waiting for him, no family, and no girlfriend. Gregory hasn't mentioned her, and he knew they weren't that serious, but still, not visiting him…unless she had a job that took her away for long periods of time like flight attendant, sales rep…business…maybe she was in the force herself and working shifts…still if he was with a man like Gregory he would be here within the first hour.

A man like that shouldn't be alone; they don't deserve to be alone.

"Follow me, he should be asleep for quite some time, probably waking up late tomorrow morning, the sedatives are strong and he needs his rest." Mycroft didn't answer as he started to follow her down the hallway. They reached his room when Mycroft's phone rang.

"Sorry it is my boss, he will need an update."

"It's fine, I was going to ask you to wait a few minutes, as I check up on him and update the nurses, come in when you're done." Sally replied and with a nod walked into Greg's room while Mycroft spoke on the phone.

Sandy watched Lorna and Mary-Ann as they double checked everything made sure the wires were out of the way, the bed linen neat, the catheter bag where it should be and all those checks before they can leave. Lorna turned to Sandy.

"Don't know how you can be so strong Sandy, if it was my boyfriend I would've fainted right away." Mary-Ann nodded.

"Yeah, you got some nerves of steel, if I didn't know any better I would've say that was cold."

Sandy lost her patience but wasn't in the mood for a fight, she just glared at them.

"I spent years on a Mercy Ship, ever been on one? Bad circumstances, people with no money, no hygiene, young and old, toddlers and new-borns, ever amputated a three-year old arm because of gangrene? You learn early, curb your emotions or it would ruin you. The operating table is no place for emotions, or tears, you're there to fulfil your oath and that is to save a life, by all means necessary, so I hid their faces behind a curtain and use every ounce of strength to save the life, regardless of my heart and pain. That is what we are trained to do okay?"

The nursed quickly nodded and with one look at each other left the room, leaving her alone with Greg. Sandy sat down, all her energy gone. She took his hand, covering it with hers and kissed the top where the needle was.

"Besides you know me, there was no way I could leave you alone in someone else's hands, not with your life on the line. You do realise that I'm angry that you risked your life like this right? You are such a stubborn man Greg Lestrade. I won't even bother to ask what you were thinking as we both know the answer."

Mycroft updated Lewisham who would in turn update Wells about Gregory's condition they shared the sentiment that Gregory indeed was very lucky to be alive and very loyal to his partners. It is not every day that something like that happens in the Secret Service and it is a marvel to hear that sometime a team can work very well together. Finishing the call he turned around to watch two nurses rushing out. He paced the hallway as he talked and was a few steps away, but he still overheard them as they walk pass him.

"No I agree Lo, after everything they've been through, now is the perfect time to get married and have a family, he nearly died!"

"Yeah, he should stop risking his life like that, did you know; he hasn't even asked her to move in with him?"

"No! Well this better has knocked some sense into him, he….." Mycroft couldn't hear the rest as they went around the corner, his narrowed his eyes, and what were they talking about? A dreaded feeling settled in his stomach.

Turning around he quickly made his way to Gregory's room and froze in front of the window. Sandy was sitting on a chair; her hand's cradling Greg's. It was intimate. Just like a puzzle all the pieces fell into place, presenting Mycroft with a clear picture. The girlfriend did work shift and long hours…she was a surgeon…she was Dr Madison…Sandy…who he met before….who saved his brother…who he called to save Gregory… ' _After everything they've been through, now is the perfect time to get married and have a family, he nearly died.'_ The nurse's voice echoed through his head. He closed his eyes in surrender, how did he miss this? His hand that was outstretched to the door handle fell back at his side, slacked and without direction, just like the body and mind it was attached to.

Mycroft needed to get away, he needed to leave. Taking a step back he nearly ran down the hallway.

Sandy turned just as Mycroft rushed away.

"Mycroft!" She called but he didn't come back, letting go of Greg's hand she rushed out to the hallway but Mycroft was already long gone. She sighed in frustration.

"Dammit!" She exclaimed before she turned around and went back onto Greg's room. Now she has no choice but to stay, maybe she can catch some sleep if she leans her head on the bed….


	32. Chapter 32

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 10**

 **Dream yourself a dream come true**

Mycroft didn't know how he got home; he just knew somehow he burst through his front door, his back slamming against it as if to keep the world from breaking through or knocking on the door. His breath was swallow and he had no idea what to do now. He liked Dr Madison, she was competent, dedicated and had a passion for her job, and for the patients, he saw it with Sherlock and that is why he trusted her with Greg.

"Oh God." He gasped as her realised that he made her operate on her own boyfriend, and she did, she managed to put her emotions aside and saved his life.

He felt a new found respect for her but at the same time resentment. She got to be in relationship with Gregory, to see him as he was still sleepy when he wakes up in the morning, to see him after a rough day, to do the things he only dreams about – quite literally. He wondered if Gregory had a fondness for food just like his fire-fighter Greg had, that he also like to be lazy on a winter's morning and struggle to get out of bed. He knew he was brave like his Greg, dedicated to his job, and had a passion for it. His eyes shot open as he sagged down the door. He dreamed that Greg went into the fire department but did the tests for the police force as well.

It wasn't a coincidence, he knew his brain associated Greg in his Constable uniform and transferred it to the fire fighters that saved his life in that burning warehouse. His and Elizabeth's. He read up on coma's and knew his brain took that moment with Greg – Gregory – to show him a life with Greg, his Greg, the real one…or is Gregory the real one?

Lately they have been mutating into one, he was struggling to separate the two, both would smile at him, like they were genuinely glad to see him, both would try to lighten the mood with a little story or anecdote, both had the same handshake, the same body build, and both was driving him crazy. He couldn't think, his mind couldn't function, it was all over the place trying to melt the two into one and separate it at the same time.

Standing up he walked to his cabinet and took out the first bottle he could find. He was no novice when it came to drinking but he did know how to keep himself in line. Picking up a glass he poured himself a generous amount in the glass and drank nearly the half in one go.

"Aaah better." Taking a second sip, he visibly relaxed.

Sitting down on the couch he went through the days' events. How did he miss that they were together? Shrugging he realised it wasn't so hard. He narrowed his eyes as he stared at the glass.

"But why aren't they serious? It wasn't just me that picked up on it, even the nurses…two years and they haven't moved in together, they don't see each other much often." Which is a shame; if he was with Gregory he would try to see him as much as possible. Gregory would be a puzzle he would like to unravel for the rest of his life.

"No. Stop it. Don't think like that. You have no right…"

Sighing he finish the glass and poured himself another one. Death or near death experiences has a way to play with a person's mind and who knows, maybe this is Greg's and Sandy's push to make them realise they should be together and get married, with the house and the 2.0 kids and the dog…He looked down as he thought back to his own memory, his dream, if dream Greg was anything like Real Gregory, the marriage would be something amazing, because when it all comes down to it, Constable Greg in a minute was enough to make Mycroft Holmes, who doesn't believe in marriage, get married in a dream.

Oh who was he kidding, if he dreamt it, somewhere in his subconscious he believes in it. Children too, if his son was anything to go by.

With one mouthful he finished his second glass and poured another, quite relaxed after two full glasses. He knew working with Gregory would be a mistake; he tried so hard to keep his emotions in check, to hide the warmth, the familiarity behind a mask of ice. He must have slipped it in the kitchen because he can still see Gregory's brown eyes as the surprise and wonder filled them that Mycroft would give him a genuine compliment.

He couldn't help it, he let the mask slip for a brief minute and somehow a new moment was shaped between them, his eyes turned to his arm, the place where Greg's hand touched him…it still burns with an ache his heart felt, a longing than cannot be. He has a girlfriend, possibly a fiancée…Mycroft closed his eyes and thought back to that moment in the kitchen, both staring at one another, Greg holding his arm, his other hand reaching up…then the gunmen…Mycroft opened his eyes. Why did he reach his other hand? The only logical explanation would be that he wanted to reach for him? Cup his face? Why on earth…. Shaking his head he down the third glass and filled it again.

Trying to get more comfortable he kicked of his shoes and stood up to remove his jacket. That was better. Next was the waistcoat…

By the time he was on his sixth glass he was very relaxed, laying on the couch, in his socks and trousers, the shirt tucked out, the corners hanging down, the cufflinks out, the shirt hanging off his frame. He lifted his right arm and lift up his shirt.

The skin was smooth, pale with freckles with two thin white lines down each side…the only visible reminder of what happened so many years ago. His fingers trailed over the lines and he emptied his glass once again. His hand with the glass fell down the sofa, the glass rolled on his side against the small coffee table. Mycroft closed his eyes and passed out within minutes.

"Hello My…" Mycroft opened his eyes to see Greg sitting on his coffee table, his fire-fighter jacket resting on the table next to him. Wearing a full fire-fighter's uniform. Mycroft sit up straight.

"I'm dreaming…" He uttered.

"Hopefully of me." Greg winked and smiles his brown eyes staring at Mycroft filled with love. Mycroft stared into those eyes feeling his heart breaking all over again. He took a deep breath.

"You're not real." Mycroft replied, his voice sad and hurt.

"Thanks for that, after a long day at work, I get home and this is the response."

"I don't have a hangover."

"What?"

"I passed out on the sofa…I don't have a hangover, you're not a fire-fighter but a sergeant with New Scotland Yard, quickly on your way to become a Detective." Greg sat back on the table, the jacket disappeared. The uniform was gone instead Greg sat in a pair of slacks, his white shirt and tie, the same clothes the day they met for the second time.

"So the question is, why are you dreaming of me now…again after all these years?"

"You're a figment of my mind, trying to mock me, why don't you tell me." Mycroft snarled and walked towards the cabinet to pour a drink.

"Considering that you are doing this to yourself, shouldn't you be mocking yourself then?"

Mycroft snorted, only his mind would be sarcastic as his brother. He turned around.

"Why won't you let me forget him?"

Greg pointed to himself.

"Me or your mind…"

Mycroft ignored the remark.

"He is in a relationship, not very happy, not commitment or serious, but still, why won't you let me forget about him? Are you under some misguided impression that it would help me? That I should care? You do realise caring brings you nowhere, it hinders you, it is a disadvantage, that meddles with your brain, just look at me!" Mycroft yelled, staring in Greg's face.

Greg looked sad for a moment. His hands picked up one of the cufflinks on the table.

"I am looking at you, and can't help but wonder why you want to believe that so much, when I'm trying to show you, you do care, your feelings for me..." Mycroft gave him a hard look.

"…Greg, for Greg was what kept you safe, your mind safe during your stay in the hospital."

"You could've given me anything else to dream about."

"Like what? The latest voting rumours between Labour and Tories? The wonderful scenery of the oval desk in the White House, or would you prefer the long black hallways of an underground mission? That was fun wasn't it?"

"I could deal with that, you gave me the one thing I can't have."

"Which is what? A copper?"

"A family!" Mycroft yelled his voice hoarse as it echoed around the room.

They stared in silence at one another and Mycroft went back to the sofa and sit down.

"I dreamt of a life I can't have, a man in a relationship with another woman, I made him gay in my dream, gave him an imaginary boyfriend who hurt him and left without a place to stay. He hasn't had a male partner in years…"

"He remembers you though..." Greg replied and Mycroft looked up. His eyes searching Greg's.

"Remember…eyes as blue as I can remember, he compared it to the sky, and you know the sky are pretty much unlimited and vast in its beauty. He wouldn't have remembered if the meeting didn't mean anything."

"But he moved on…he is in a relationship…"

"Oh you stubborn man! Look, they aren't living together, he never committed, he remembers your eyes, which by the way is so telling, he never forgot you, just like you didn't forget him, it has to mean something…wake up and smell the bloody roses!"

"Doesn't matter, he is still in a relationship, and I am a lot of things, but not a home wrecker."

"You keep hanging on about it, something happened between them, something changed, you saw it, you just don't want to see it…deduce it…why…?"

"It's none of my business, besides they looked pretty close as she held his hand in the hospital."

"Yeah, unconscious men are great at showing closeness…just look at you in your comatose state…"

Mycroft snorted and they both shared a smile, true. Mycroft looked at Greg.

"I'm started to mix the two of you up…you're melting into one…and I don't know how to handle it…I don't know what to do about it…" Greg reached over and cupped Mycroft's cheek, he leaned over a placed a small kiss on his lips.

"You will find a way, if you can find a way to save yourself from mental trauma; you can find a way to deal with this. When you wake up, take a long shower, something for your hangover and go visit Sobek, he always calms you down…who knows, you might find a way out of this…a way to deal, but for now…sleep."

"I want to stay awake with you…" Mycroft's eyes widen in shock and Greg shrugged.

"In hospital you wanted to sleep again, to be with me, now you want to be awake with me…"

Mycroft woke with a start, squinting his eyes he grabbed his head. The shrill sound that woke him up stopped. He shifted on the sofa into a near upright position.

"Oow.." he groaned, his head was killing him. A beep sounded through the room and Mycroft stood up to the table, he had a mobile phone and someone tried to call him. Checking the number he saw it was Dr Madison, he didn't want to talk to her, he wanted painkillers…and maybe a shower.

Two hours later Mycroft sat in the museum, the familiar exhibition, the same old bench as always with his old faithful companion: Sobek.

 _"dream on - Aerosmith 1973'_


	33. Chapter 33

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 11**

 **Riding on the winds of change**

The twitch of his hand was the first indicator that Greg was waking up, his monitor increased slightly, but it was of no concern, it was normal.

Next was the frown, the awakening brought the pain back, the morphing fading away like Morpheus. Something or someone was sitting on his chest, he can't remember that he had furniture that heavy…maybe the wardrobe…but he has change his room last week…maybe football…and he somehow ended up under a tackle…

After much debate, where curiosity won, he slowly opened his eyes: it was bright, so bright and there was a constant noise next to him and around him, the bed felt soft but unfamiliar, the sheets held a stiffness that his blankets at home didn't had. It took him a minute to realise the beep beep was a heart monitor, that there was a tube in his arm, and a small device on his finger…oh hospital…

He closed his eyes to take a breath, the pain a constant ache, when flashes of the shooting and incident came back to him. The house, the bust, the red dot on Mycroft's chest, he rushed forward to get him out of the way, his body were cold with fear and he just acted. Then the force on his back…

"Oh God…" He mumbled as he remembered the few words he said to Mycroft, about his eyes…that meeting.

"Shite…"

Well, he can always claim memory loss…ramblings of a man shot…

His heart rate increased, the monitor rising in the beeps and noise level, ignoring the brief stab of pain he picked up the nurse call button and pressed it hard.

He could hear the rush of a nurse running down the hallway and then entering his room.

"Sergeant Lestrade, you're awake, finally." Greg tried to get up, to talk but it was too difficult.

"Don't move, please." Greg fell back against the pillows, clutching his chest. His eyes caught the small tumbler with water and reached for it. The nurse saw and pushed his hand back to him.

"I'll get, relax, and just relax." She filled the small glass with water and put in a straw before she held it close for him to drink.

"There you go. Slow and steady and as much as you go can." Greg drank it all and smiled thankfully at the nurse who smiled back and put the glass back down.

"What happened to my colleague?" He rasped out, he wanted to know if Mycroft was okay. The nurse frowned.

"As far as I know, there were no other injuries; you were the only person to get hurt. Try to relax and I will go get your doctor."

"Thanks."

Once alone he tried he lifted the blanket to look at his chest, there were a white bandage wrapped around his torso and he would like to touch it, but his left arm were in a sling, and his back and shoulder was killing him. He really stepped into it this time.

"Two bullets, one lodged itself in your scapula bone, hope you're ready for several weeks off work and months of therapy ahead." Greg looked up from his chest to the door. Sandy stood in the doorway, her arms folded, and the ponytail low on her neck, she was too tired to have the high one. Her eyes were tired, her mouth in a thin line. She was worried sick and scared to death for him. An overwhelming feeling of guilt overcame him; he didn't even thought about her since he woke up.

"Sands…" He tried his voice still hoarse and raw. He needed more water or something more smoothing. Dropping her hands she walked closer to the bed. She stood at the end of the bed, looking at him.

"You know…this isn't some stitches in your hand…you were so close to dying…"

"I…"

"I was scared to death! I was worried sick…" She walked around the bed to sit down, taking his hand in hers; the other cupped his cheek, the stubble prominent and scratchy.

"I'm so sorry Sands…" He tried to talk more, but she could see he has exhausted the little bit of energy he had.

"Get some rest…I'll make sure there's some food when you wake up, maybe some yogurt too for your throat then we can talk some more okay…"

Greg nodded squeezing her hand softly.

"Sands…are Mycroft okay?" He asked his eyes already falling close, he struggled to keep awake. She felt her heart break and leaned forward, kissing his cheek softly.

"He was uninjured." Greg let a smile form before he fell asleep.

"He didn't get shot, but I don't know if he is fine…" She whispered softly as she stood up. She knew that the conversation they both avoided for so long is upon them, and she will need to be the strong one.

When Greg woke up again, he could feel a slight improvement from the previous time he was awake. He was a bit more aware of things around him, his chest still hurt but he it wasn't so overwhelming anymore. As promised there was a small tub of yogurt and some food. Before he could call for a nurse, Sandy came back in the room with fresh water and a tray with a small pot of tea and a cup.

"Any chance that is coffee…"

"Sorry, coffee is a diuretic and too strong for your system; some tea will just have to do. How are you feeling?"

"Like I got shot..." Greg tried to joke but Sandy just glared at him.

"Sorry. Too soon."

He watched as she placed the tray down and pressed the remote to lift his bed a bit more.

"I mean it Sands…I'm sorry, but it is part of my job."

"I know…" She wants to be angry with him, but she knew he was a cop and injuries came with the territory, not to mention that those brown eyes can melt her even when it was a bit more dull than normal.

"Couldn't you find a better way to impress him?" She didn't have to say his name to know they both knew who she was talking about. Greg looked away, trying to think of something to say but closed his mouth again.

"Here have some yogurt…" Sandy handed him the small tub and he took a few bites.

"Thanks, this is great." She waited till he finished eating and drinking when she took a breath. The moment has come.

"He said you saved his life, that you pushed him away."

"I saw the red dot and just acted, hoped we both would get out of the line of fire…"

"He called me as the ambulance brought you here…"

"You?" Sandy sighed as she tried to explain.

"We met before…a couple of weeks ago, his brother had an OD and I was on call, I recognise his name from you, I didn't tell him who I was, I didn't think it was important. I didn't tell you, as I didn't want to upset you. He somehow got my number and when he was in the ambulance he called me, to save his colleague…it was only after I hanged up that it registered it was you."

Greg could only hold her hand as she spoke, he had no idea how to offer her any sort of comfort to that, and he didn't know what to say. Sandy looked down as she went on.

"I have never felt so weak before, seeing you on the stretcher, all that blood, it was the worst moment of my entire life, and I knew it was your job, I…in that moment…I also knew you did it more for just the fact that it was your job, you did it because the alternative was much more worse. It was Mycroft, the man of your dreams, the man you spend so long to find, and now that you did, you would do anything to make sure he is okay. You have his shirt…you spend months trying to find him, even now…he is still there in your mind, in your heart, in the space between us, and he will always be."

"You have to understand that nothing…." Greg started, he needed to tell her it doesn't matter, he will move on, he did, he is over it…

"Gregory, don't even try…we both know how you feel about him…"

Greg looked down, his hand playing with sling on his other hand, no one was supposed to know, it was his secret, he kept it secret for more than six years, and although he and Mycroft had a rocky relationship so far, he still made peace with the fact that yes, he loved him. Loved him like he never thought he would. Definitely more than any person he ever went out with or was in a relationship with. It was quiet between them for a moment when Sandy reaches out and took his hand.

"Look at me, please." Her voice was soft, understanding and Greg hated it even more. He slowly lifted his eyes.

"You love him, more than you ever thought you would, or anticipated, Greg, a love like this comes only once in your life, some never have it, as it might sound strange coming from me, but don't let him go."

Greg's eyes filled with tears.

"What about you?"

"We both now, we were never going further, we will always be close, but I'm not the one you want to marry and spend your life with, and I'm not the type to settle down, you know it, I know it. I think we both found one another when we were consumed by loneliness, and for a while we could convince ourselves that this could be it. He was waiting here while you were in surgery, he wanted to see you, but he saw me with you, holding your hand and left…you need to talk to him."

"I can't… I don't even know where to begin…"

"The beginning usually helps." Greg snorted slightly and freed his hand from her, wiping his face. Sandy looked at him, the man that came the closest to make her stay…

"How about I call him, say you are fine and you would like to talk to him – we can say it is about the case – and once he is here you can really talk?"

"You would do that for me?"

"Yeah, I would. I do love you Greg, in my own way; just like you love me in your way…you deserve to be happy."

Sandy took out her phone and a few seconds later she dialled. She handed the phone over to Greg.

"I'll wait outside." Smiling at her Greg took the phone and watched as Sandy walked out of the room. Greg felt nervous and scared as the phone rang….and rang….and rang…and then cut off.

The phone fell out of his hands, onto his lap. He didn't answer…could it be that he didn't care? Mycroft called her and now he doesn't answer…he knew that she was dating Greg…then again, Mycroft haven't really showed Greg that he cared in the past few weeks.

"Sands." He called out, and she stepped into the room, her eyes on the phone in his lap.

"He didn't answer." Greg said before she could ask. Sandy felt a heavy weight in her stomach. Damn.

"Well, maybe he busy with his spy stuff, or paperwork, I'm sure there is a good reason. I'll keep the phone here, so you can answer when he calls okay." She could see Greg was trying very hard to believe her.

"Okay…I hope your right."

Mycroft never called back. For three days Greg and Sandy tried twice a day, but nothing, on the fourth day, the phone didn't even ring, it was off. Greg was broken, and there was nothing Sandy could do. They moved him out of Intensive Care into a normal ward and she couldn't see him as much. Chief Wells came to visit him, on his first day out of Intensive care. A smile on his face and box of chocolates.

"You did it my boy, everyone is impressed. When you come back you will be a Detective…Detective Inspector Lestrade…congratulations." Greg smiled back, pretending everything was fine and he was happy. He always wanted to be a Detective.

"What about Mr Holmes…" He subtly asked.

"Oh he has been promoted as well, got straight into it, something that took him out of the country, left England a few days ago…Lewisham said he was eager to start and would always work with you again if a case overlaps in the future."

That was it, the final nail in the coffin on his heart and his love for Mycroft; he was doomed to love a man, who would want nothing to do with him. He bet Mycroft will do everything in his power to make sure his time and Greg's would never overlap in the same presence again.


	34. Chapter 34

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 12**

 **Therapy and talks, both painful but healing**

Mycroft has been sitting there for a few hours now, so far he hasn't made any progress on finding a solution to deal with the facts. His head wasn't a smashing hammer in his head anymore, and he felt a bit better after the sleep he so desperately needed. He noticed that Sandy tried to call him, but he didn't call back, what is he supposed to say? 'Congratulations on saving your boyfriend.' Or 'I'm sorry I made you operate on your boyfriend, even unbeknownst to myself I can be cruel.' Yeah that would go great. Greg was alive and had made it he even woke up, so its fine…it's all fine…peachy…great…marvellous…

"Look Daddy, he is so big!" A little boy come running close to Sobek, his eyes wide and cheeks red as he pointed to the crocodile. Mycroft watch the man follow his son, smiling as he talk with the boy, both smiling as they looked at Sobek, the dad was reading the small plaque with information and was explaining it back to the boy. Mycroft closed his eyes and massages his temples, a fleeting image of his boy, the one he and Greg had in his dream materialised in front of him.

" _Dad! Dad! Look! Look what uncle Sherlock bought me!"_ Mycroft opened his eyes to push the memory away, the day Greg and Sherlock bought him a pirate backpack for school Sherlock was always fond of pirates…he was like a little boy looking up at Mycroft as they grew up…but his son, he had Mycroft's eyes, not Sherlock's…

" _Thanks Dad, you're the best."_ The boy was so real, the dream was so real, and he wished he could just go back, but that meant being in a coma, being tortured, reliving that, and he struggled for years to put it behind him, to move on. The only thing that helped was the calmness and familiarity of the museum and his job. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath; he was alone again in the room, just him and Sobek. He stood up and walked to the animal.

"Why can't you calm my thoughts today?" Sobek was silent, but then again, Sobek hasn't made a sound in a very very long time.

"I dreamt of him again, he said to come here…I know it's my mind…but you're not calming me today..."

Mycroft sighed and walked around the animal, he stopped when he was back at the head.

"He has a girlfriend…what chance do I have? What right do I have? Why can't I let him go…it hurts…more than the therapy after the torture…sometimes I think it hurt more than the torture did. I could prepare for that, I can't prepare for this…I don't know how…" Mycroft fell silent, now that he knew the origin of the problem, he never stood a chance, he never could prepare himself for someone like Greg, he could never prepare for his heart to fall for him, and to be broken so brutally, this felt like the second time, once by his own hand, the second by reality, by Sandy…even though she is innocent. She just found him before he did. The silence was broken by a text message. He looked towards his phone.

" **HQ. ASAP. L"**

He gave a deep sigh. Problems…always problems. Love required him at the office as soon as possible. As he put the phone back in his pocket he straightened his back. Well, he used his work once to heal his heart and mind, he will do it again.

The moment he stepped into the office he knew it was serious, dead serious. Love or Elizabeth was standing in front of the latest video screens with satellite photos displayed in horrible white and black grain. You had to know what you are looking at; otherwise it would just be something out of modern art piece. He walked straight to her.

"Status." She looked up at him and visibly relaxed.

"So glad you are here." She handed him a file.

"Come on, I'll explain as we walk." They turned around and made their way out of the surveillance room.

"Operation Yeti has been compromised, we are unsure of how at the moment but we do know that there so far had been at least one casualty."

Mycroft concern increased, it was not good, the operation is extremely important, and involved more than ten of the best agents they have at the moment. The young agent, he has been watching all these years, 'Anthea' was involved with the operation, and even though he wasn't attached, he knew she was very good at her job. He wouldn't mind having her on his team.

"Do we know who?"

"No, no names so far, a few have been kidnapped. We need to have an extraction team but also a negotiating team, that's why you are here. I suggested you to accompany me, I volunteered, I can't let them die and not do anything…I'm hoping you would come with me." Mycroft knew the risk, but he understand, Love's name was there for a reason, she would think hard and to the point, but with the team, the people at the forefront. She would go in, risk her life to bring them back, rather than just wash her hands of it. Well, he has been looking for a distraction, and one just presented itself, he looked at her.

"When do we leave?"

Two days after Greg was realised and moved to the normal ward, he started with his therapy session. Issabel Wallin was from Sweden and has been a therapist for nearly ten years. She was small but tough and didn't take any crap from anyone. She was strong in her build and could match Greg strength for strength as she helps him out of the bed. He huffed and puffed within the first five minutes but she was relentless.

"Just five minutes rest…" Greg would beg between breaths.

"After you did ten more stretches." She would reply with her strong accent and Greg would growl but moved. He knew it was necessary but it hurt so bloody much. His shoulder and chest felt like it was on fire…just like his first football game in school, trying to outdo his mates for a spot on the team. He did it too. The pain was horrible, the moves difficult even though it was the most basic of moves with one's arm. He wanted to give up, say he will do it in his own time, but he kept going, he was stubborn that way. Or he just had a good motivator.

" _You did a good job Gregory."_ Mycroft's compliment in the kitchen would haunt him, egging him on with every move, Mycroft may ignore his calls, but Greg was used to his mind using the man to motivate him, to make him keeping on, if it wasn't in the back of his mind all these years it would be these past few weeks.

He keep reminding him, that if needed he would do it again, why? Because he saved Mycroft's life, he was real and after all these weeks, he got to know the man, he got to talk to him, to put a name to the initials, it was real, it wasn't just a fleeting moment of six years ago, it was a moment in reality. Even though Mycroft was cold and distant, he showed more in that brief moment in the kitchen, than all the weeks, and that made Greg fight, there was more to the man, he must just find it.

Sandy came by once, but there was a slight awkwardness, that they never had before, but he wasn't worried, it would take some time getting use to be just friends and not friends with more like before but they will be okay, they will always have that connection. They parted on good terms, both mature enough to face facts and move on, they just need a few weeks of distance, but then they will be good again. He knows it, she did too.

After two weeks in hospital he was tired and bored and just wants to go home. He knew he wouldn't be able to go back to work immediately, but at least home he can be more comfortable, take walks…His friends and colleagues came to visit bringing him sweets, chips and snacks and juices and he appreciate it, but sometime a man just wants his bed or the opportunity to sit in one's pyjamas in front of the telly watching a game with the feet propped on the table.

Sandy brought him some clothes from home and his phone so he could stay in touch. So far, he broke his record on Snake…but…late at night he would call a number, one he knows out of his head, he doesn't want to sound desperate but he really wants to talk to him, even if it is about the case…the phone remained silent…and another round of Snake would commence.


	35. Chapter 35

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 13**

 **Both of us are trying to run away.**

Greg was so happy to be home, it was wonderful, although not as mobile as he would've liked, the fact that he can bath when he wants to, eat when he wants to…what he wants to...and sleep when he feel like it, was a huge improvement. He wasn't in the mood for the constant noise, the way the nurses bothered him, and even those that knew he and Sandy were dating and now broken up, would give him these sad little looks, others would be angry, why he wouldn't know. Honestly he didn't care anymore. He was just glad when they brought him his realise papers and was so fast out of there.

It's been nearly a month since the shooting and he hasn't heard from Mycroft once, even though he tried to call him a few times, but the phone was still dead, and soon his hope is going to join it. Picking up his wallet and phone he made sure all widows were closed when the doorbell rang.

Greg managed to open it after the second ring to find Sandy standing there waiting for him.

"Sands? What are you doing here?" After the split, they haven't seen each other as much as they used to, both needing some space. Greg also noticed that while he was in hospital she came to collect a few things that were here before she gave him his key back.

"I'm here to take you, or accompany you to your therapy." She replied smiling hopefully.

"San.."

"Listen, I know I wasn't around as much, but we both agreed on distance, but the thing is, I can't let you go through this alone, I want to be there, and I get what you are going through, well the therapy part…" Greg smiled softly at that, it is true, she does know about broken bones and bullet wounds, and in all honesty, she is pretty much the only person he has at the moment.

"…also…I thought we could go and have some lunch, I bet you are not eating properly."

"Fine…you had me at food." Greg joked and closed the door, and followed her out to the street, he nearly reached for her hand, but didn't. He is alone now.

As they walked there was a moment of awkward moment of not sure how to start the conversation. Sandy started laughing at the absurdity of it all when Greg joined in. Somehow it was the perfect ice breaker.

"So, how is your therapy going?"

"Yeah…well…therapy is therapy, I don't want to do it, but I know I must, I just want to go back to work you know, get busy in cases…forget everything and just move on. I am so tired of sitting the whole day at home."

"Well, you can always take walks; go the museums…parks..."

"Yeah…I did that…and then I discovered series marathons…" Sandy turned to him, pretending to be shocked.

"Oh no you didn't!"

"Oh yeah…all the original Star Trek series, all the movies…the newest series…halfway through that…"

"Oh you poor man…"

"I know…the horror." Greg joked back and laughed with her. It was good to laugh again, it felt strange to him, he enjoyed watching programmes, but the last few weeks, he has been distant, hardly reacting to the telly, and he can't remember the last time he smiled or laughed.

The good thing about his therapist location is that it was quite central to the surrounding shops. Sandy left him arranging to meet him at the small café when he was done; in the meantime she went and did some shopping.

By the time she sat at the small table she had two big bags filled with new items, she bought some new boots, a new summer hat and some clothes. According to her watch, Greg should be nearly finished with his therapy, but she will wait before she orders anything. The boots were good, strong quality and made to last. Practically all terrain, just what she needed. A buzz came from the table and her phone vibrated with a text.

" **Three weeks. All papers approved. Sending more details via email. R. Wilkins."**

"Shit." She mumbled, that's so soon….

"Hey, you okay?" Sandy looked up to see Greg's concern face looking at her.

"Hey, all done?" She asked trying to change the subject as she put the phone in her pocket. Greg sat down opposite her.

"Sands. I know you, was that bad news? You look a bit worried there for a moment."

"Oh, no, its work and surgery…nothing serious, don't worry about it. Shall we order, I'm quite starving."

"You sure?" With a nod and smile he let it go.

"Yeah, me too, to be honest. So I see you were quite productive while I was gone."

"Well, you know me…the shops were there…"

Sandy waited till they were nearly done with the food when she took a breath.

"Greg…did you try again to call him?"

Greg chewed his food extra slow and swallowed until he no longer could keep the food in his mouth before he answered.

"I did, couple times…not every day…but you know…his phone is still off, can't even leave messages anymore, inbox full apparently. Still he should see I tried to call…when he comes back from wherever…." Sandy could feel her heart breaking, Greg didn't deserve this, he was so close, and then everything just took a 180 in the opposite direction.

"Maybe you should send him a text?" She offered but knew Greg wouldn't do that. He shook his head.

"What can I possible say in such a short text? What do I say period?"

Sandy sighed, he was right; one text wouldn't even begin to cover it.

Mycroft was tired and exhausted. He wasn't used to such long missions, especially of such sensitive nature. They were able to rescue nearly all of their agents, while he and Elizabeth negotiate and tried to smooth rough feathers and allowed the small possibility of future dealings and contact. Things would be very rough and sticky for the next few years, but he is sure, he will be able to get a hold on them in the future, everyone has a price, he just need to find it.

He has been working non-stop as every break he takes, is filled with guild and pain and longing. He wanted to go home, he wanted to see Greg. His report is saying that Greg is back home and attending physical therapy, he might be off for up to three months, and not able to fully use the arm for maybe a year.

It was his fault, he shouldn't have let Greg do that, and he should've seen the shooter. He should be the one sitting next to Greg in the hospital, holding his hand and not her. He gave a mental groan, these past few weeks, he has been thinking about this for non-stop now. He was supposed to go to the museum, visit Sobek and find a solution, instead he found more misery. Deep down he knew he was running away, he should've man up and congratulate her on a job well-done, give Gregory a handshake and thank him for his bravery, but no…he decided on the coward's way out.

"Here, I brought you some tea." Mycroft looked up to see Elizabeth holding a small tray.

"Thank you. This is perfect."

"We should be done at the end of the week, and then we can all go home."

"I agree, as soon as the agents are stable enough for travel we will all go home."

They sat for a while in silence, both enjoying the tea and few biscuits. Elizabeth waited till the tea was finished before she turned to Mycroft.

"I heard you bought it." Mycroft stilled for a moment before he gave her a brief nod. She doesn't have to say it; both know it is the warehouse they were kept in, the one they almost died in.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Mycroft gave a short snort between amusement and a laugh.

"It is not registered under any company, and I am convinced it may come in handy someday."

"I still think about it some days, especially when a mission goes bad and agents are compromised.

"Me too." Mycroft confessed and realised he hasn't confessed it to any other person ever, he hardly admit it to himself. Mycroft opened his mouth to speak then bit down, he was unsure of he could ask the question, the chance of sounding weak was too much. He sighed.

"I had a dream while I was in the coma." He ended up mumbling to himself.

"You did?" Mycroft nodded and didn't look at her.

"I'm not going to tell you how common it is, so why don't you tell me, why it bothers you so much. Did you dream something bad?" Mycroft turned to her surprised.

"How did you know it bothers me?"

"Because I know you for quite a few years, and we have been through a lot plus you have been distracted these past few weeks, especially with the liaison case and then you almost died again. I read the report; Sergeant Lestrade saved your life."

"Yes…he did…"

"How is he doing? I heard he is making a full recovery."

"Yeah, got promoted too."

"Ooh, Detective Inspector Lestrade…such a nice ring. We should use him again with liaisons; I've never seen Lewisham praise a copper like that."

"He is very good at what he does, you can see it, and it is his passion."

"Have you seen him since the incident?"

"No."

Elizabeth stared at him for a while, Mycroft started to feel uncomfortable, it was the look he usually gives to people, the I see right through you look, he just hope she doesn't say anything, because right now, the way he feels, he would really be tempted to tell her everything.

"I see." She said, and that was it. Whatever she saw in him, she decided to keep it to herself and he was grateful for that.

"Miss Hardwicke will never be able to go out in the field as she did before." Elizabeth stated as she put her cup down. Mycroft was aware of it. Anthea Hardwicke's injuries were too serious, to allow her the level of functionality, she would be able to make a full recovery but they won't send her out again.

"Did you know, she was the agent Grey was after?"

"No, she was?" Elizabeth looked surprised at Mycroft, he nodded.

"After what happened I wanted to know who the agent was."

"Oh, and now she will be let go."

"No…I will find something for her, she is too valuable to let go. I will not let her disappear behind a desk somewhere."

Elizabeth smiled and stepped closer, her blond hair shining like a halo in the overhead light.

"And yet, they call you the Ice-man, you know…if you can give her a second change…don't you think you should give yourself one too?" She asked and before he could answer, she walked away. So she did saw something when he spoke about Gregory.

His thoughts drifted back to him, Gregory was one in a million, no…once in a lifetime kind of man and he should make contact, he owes it to Gregory and to himself, and the dream can be pushed to the side. Greg deserved more than the treatment he got from Mycroft these past few weeks, it was unfair on both of them, and more so on Greg. When they go back, he should call. That night was the first night he switched his phone on, there were several missed calls, mostly from Gregory. He didn't answer or look at them, he couldn't. Back home yes. The next day they got the news that they can start to pack up to go home.

Mycroft was just finished unpacking when his phone rang. He looked at the screen. He took a very deep breath. 'Into battle' he mumbled. Time for running away was over.


	36. Chapter 36

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 14**

 **You got something I need**

When Sandy got home that night with her shopping bags, she was tired and felt old and weary. The day, revealed much and showed her that Greg wasn't really coping as well as she'd hope. The fact that he was off work, made things just ten times worse. He was left on his own with his thoughts and that is a dangerous thing, for everyone, even more for someone like Greg, who underwent trauma, got out of a two year relationship and an injury that would keep him from doing the things he normally would. Greg is a physical person and if not injured, he would either throw himself in a case, or kick a ball or lift weights. His coping mechanisms are taken away from him, and that is not good.

With a low sigh she put her shopping bags on the sofa she plopped down next to it. She was feeling guilty too, if Mycroft didn't see them in the hospital, but then again, he would've found out about her somehow. Her eye caught the bags, she was longing for her freedom again, but how can she leave when Greg is like that? She can never leave him behind like that. If he can only go back to work, she would rest a bit better if she knew he could get cases again, and now that he is a Detective, with his own team, she would sleep soundly, knowing he would be okay, his job was always his number one passion, how many times was he at home and happy when he got a call that there was a murder, not happy, yeah someone is dead, but happy a puzzle…

"Aaarghh…There has to be a way to help him."

The following morning Sandy made sure she was a few minutes earlier than usual, last night as she laid in bed, she got an idea and hope that it would work, it has too. Getting her usual coffee, she went to the nurse's station and logged on to the database. Adrenalin was pumping through her veins, not because of what she was doing, they were allowed to pull patient records, but because of whom she was doing it for. She felt like a modern age cupid and hopes the wind she throws out there, is enough to bring the arrows that is so clear between Greg and Mycroft a little closer to one another. She pulled Sherlock's records first then Greg's to see if either of them has the information she needed. It was Sherlock's file that gave her more background information and the number she wanted.

With the number on a piece of paper she made picked up her phone, let's hope the spy security isn't so high. The phone rang twice before it was answered.

"Good morning, you've reached Department of Transport, Kathy speaking, how can I help you?" Sandy breathed in relief.

"Good morning, I'm San..dra from the Royal London hospital, we need to get hold of Mr Mycroft Holmes?"

"Oh, he is in the innovative department, I'll transfer you through."

There was some classical ringtone that did nothing to ease her racing heart.

"Department of Transport, innovative department, Annie speaking."

"Good morning Annie, I need to speak to Mr Holmes please."

"May I ask what it is in connection with?"

The fact that he is running away from the man of his dreams and leaving that man of his dreams in a desperate attempt to heal from the bullet holes he took in his place. Sandy took a breath, she can't say that.

"It is about some paperwork regarding…" She can't use the case, her only option is Sherlock.

"…his brother when he was admitted here."

"Mr Holmes is not at the office in the moment, he is attending an inspection in the field at the moment."

Bull…even Sandy knows it.

"Oh, okay, can you perhaps tell me when you expect him back? It is just I need to send the paperwork through to accounts before handing over, I'm just an assistant…" She lied making her voice as smooth as possible

"We expect him back next week Wednesday."

"Oh, thank you so much, I'll make a note here on the file. I'll call back then."

"Good bye."

"Bye."

Yes. Phase one complete…oh she always wanted to say that. No she just have to wait, she'll call him Wednesday again if he doesn't answer she will try the long way. Transport, what a silly notion, that man in transport….

By Wednesday Sandy couldn't wait any longer Friday was so close and Greg was beyond frustrated. He was cooped up alone and tired, wishing he could go back to work, or just do something, he started to take long walks and exercises mostly sit up and leg pulls that didn't strain his arms and torso too much.

Sandy looked at her phone and the calendar, things had to come to a point, her three weeks was two weeks and a few days now.

Greg just stepped out of the shower when his phone rang. He looked at the screen and smiled.

"Hi Sands."

"Hey, how's therapy?"

"Good, slow progress but progress nonetheless, and I will be able to go back to work in about two weeks. Finally, how are you?"

"Really? That's great, hey listen I was wondering have you tried to call him again?" Greg sighed and pulled a face before he answered.

"No, I'm done. I've decided I should walk away when I still have my pride, I'm desperate but after nearly five weeks of calling, I risk arresting myself for being a stalker." Greg joked but it fell flat.

"Greg..."

"No…I can't Sandy. I've tried, I did all I could and he clearly doesn't want to talk to me, so I'm just going to take a step back, focus on getting the full function of my arm back and get back to work, run my team, be the best Detective I can be and put bad guys away. No fuss, no pain and all that."

Sandy closed her eyes, she could feel the pain and yet the stubbornness in his voice. He was giving up; she knew he shouldn't have been left alone like that all this time. It was messing with his mind and his heart.

"Please don't give up." She whispered over the phone willing him to have hope, to stay strong.

"I can't."

"You love him…"

"Yes, but he doesn't love me and you know what; sometimes love isn't enough."

"Greg…"

"Listen I got to go, food on the stove I'll talk to you later." Without giving her a chance to reply he cut the call, he didn't need to know about his love for a man, who let's be honest treated him badly all this time. On top of that, he didn't even once tried to find out how Greg was doing.

Sandy looked at her phone and sighed, this was not good. She started to pace and looked out the window, even the weather somehow picked up Greg's mood as the whole London was cast in grey clouds and soft rain. Usually she would stay over at Greg or he would stay over and they would snuggle in bed or on the sofa watching a movie. She missed him, she missed their relationship, but she knew she made the right move. She never had a fondness for rain, or the constant rain that Britain usually get, she was a thunderstorm in the afternoon and sunny the next day kind of girl. Get it over and done with.

Tomorrow is Thursday, she would try once more to call Mycroft, and if he doesn't answer she will try the long on Friday.

The whole of Thursday she was anxious and restless, kept watching her watch, by noon she couldn't wait any longer and picked up her phone and dialled the number he gave her all the while repeating 'please answer' to herself.

The phone rang…

And rang…

"Dr Madison."

Sandy smiled widely, yes, took him long enough.

"Good day Mycroft, you're a difficult man to get hold off."

"I've been abroad."

"Did the running away not work as you thought it would?"

"Excuse me?"

"Listen here, I'll get to the point…"

"Please do I am quite busy." Mycroft interrupted. Sandy just narrowed her eyes and took a breath.

"A few weeks ago you called me, to save Greg's life, which I did, I only realised you later found out that we were involved at that time…" She said and put a little emphasis on the 'were' and 'at that time' hoping that he would catch up. He did.

"Were?" Mycroft asked before he could stop himself, he couldn't trust himself to believe that they broke up. If they did why?

"We broke up, I can't be with a man, who well had a connection that survived more than six years with someone else, and I know you love him, I saw the way you look in that trauma room, covered in his blood, staring at him as he was fighting for his life. Not to mention that time in the waiting room."

"Stop please." Mycroft whispered his voice soft.

"You need to talk to him Mycroft, there are a lot of things that is left unsaid, and I think you owe it to both yourself and to Greg to sort this out. Now, you don't have to say anything but he will have therapy tomorrow I suggest you go to his place and talk with him, he is…well…you're absence had a certain impact on his mood."

"I…"

"You only live once, and trust me, he…he has something of yours…I think he is not the only one who was impacted that day, now please I can't tell you more, it is not my story to tell. Just go see him."

 _You got something I need_ _  
_ _In this world full of people there's one killing me_ _  
_ _And if we only die once,_ _  
_ _I wanna die with you_

 _If we only live once_

 _I wanna live with you_

Mycroft stoop opposite the building of flats, he was dressed in his usual suit, it had become some sort of armour for him, when he wears it, he feels ready to face the world, or Gregory. Sandy told him Greg's schedule for the day, he usually goes out for some running or walking in the morning, come home, have lunch and then go to his therapy. After that he usually comes home as he is tired and exhausted from the session. He would walk home to make sure he gets enough exercise in, as he wasn't in the field anymore or playing football over the weekends.

The session was at two so he would be walking home about three thirty or round about there. He looked up and his breath caught in his throat. His palms started to sweat and his mouth was dry. He watches as Greg walked down the street, looking much better than the dying figure on the stretcher, he was wearing jeans with sneakers, a shirt and jacket and his sling. He had small stubble on his cheek and Mycroft could see he was tired from staying home for so long and the physical therapy. He waited till Greg was quite close and passed him when he crossed the street, he was a few steps behind Greg when Greg turned into his pathway and stopped to take out his keys. Mycroft took a breath and prepared himself the most difficult talk he would ever have.

"Gregory."

 _(Something I need, One Republic – native – 2013)_


	37. Chapter 37

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 15**

 **Never look back, forwards and onwards**

"Gregory."

The only reason Greg didn't drop the keys was because his body was frozen stiff. His muscles everything just seize to work. Greg blinked and slowly life came back in his body. Okay, there is no way he is going to turn around and see Mycroft, no way…oh he is…wait…the whole six foot something of the man, with his auburn hair, pale face and oh…his eyes is looking like the cloudy sky…hmm…is the sky mimicking his eyes, or is his eyes mimicking the skies?

"Gregory." Mycroft asked again as Greg kept staring at him.

"Huh? Mycroft?"

"I know this is a surprise."

"No…a surprise is not the first word I would use…miracle comes to mind…"

Mycroft cleared his throat and looked away, the intensity in the brown eyes was overwhelming the overflow of emotions in them was crashing into him like a wave against a rock, shattering his icy walls and he needed to keep from drowning.

The silence was overwhelming heaviness between them and it must have looked like a spectacle, two grown men standing in the street unable to talk.

"I got your calls." Mycroft finally managed to get out through the thickness in his throat.

"I called a lot. You didn't answer, not even one."

"I'm sorry…I had to go abroad on short notice…I couldn't afford distractions…the situation was dire and needed my complete focus." Greg raised an eyebrow in scepticism, not daring to ask him since when was he a distraction? Instead he looked away, the keys twirling between his fingers; he wasn't sure what to say.

All the stuff he wanted to say might make him angry and he was over the whole screaming in the street. Mycroft watched the conflicted emotions ran across his face when he noticed the small drops falling down, Greg was still oblivious.

"Well…can you open please?"

"Why?"

"It's raining." Sure enough it started to dribble again and he didn't notice. Greg looked up and felt the drops.

"So it is."

"Gregory."

"Yeah…right…sorry…lets go in." He stepped up the last few steps and unlocked his door.

Once inside Greg waited till Mycroft was inside before he closed the doors and locked it behind him, throwing the keys on the small table at the door. Mycroft looked around the small place and made sure he memorised everything, it was Gregory, the real one, and he was standing inside his home, his place, the place where he wears no masks, walk barefoot if he feels like it. It was a big open plan flat, the kitchen in one corner; an L-shaped counter was creating an illusion of separation from the rest of the room.

On the other side of the wall was his telly, resting on a wooded cabinet with books and pictures around it. The sofa was old and worn in, but still neat and looked after. The coffee table matched the TV-cabinet.

On the left side was two doors, the bathroom and bedroom, the windows was big and open, casting a good light in the place, making it more spacious than what it is. Somehow he felt comfortable immediately.

"Sorry for the mess, I wasn't expecting visitors."

The mess Gregory was referring too, was a blanket over one sofa, a pillow hanging of one end, two magazines on the table, a half mug of coffee and a few DVD cases.

"It is no problem; it looks lived in, and in very honest and clear if you understand what I'm trying to say." Mycroft replied looking back at Greg who shrugged.

"Not really…wants some coffee?"

"Do you have tea?"

"Only those in a bag."

"It will do." Greg nodded as he walked to the kitchen to fill the kettle throwing a 'make yourself at home' comment over his shoulder. Mycroft watched him, one part offering to help him with the kettle as he was struggling a bit with only one arm, but the other part knew it would be a bad idea so he sat down on one sofa immediately resting with his back against the backrest feeling comfortable.

A few minutes alter Greg came out holding two mugs.

"Sorry, too heavy with a tray, but this I can do."

"It's fine. Thank you." Mycroft took the mug and started drinking, it was perfect, then again, the way he feels now, Greg can give him water and he would think it was specially delivered by an oasis. Greg sat down opposite him and for a moment they drank in silence.

"How's the therapy going, from the looks of it, you're making excellent progress."

"Yeah, well, I have never been able to sit back and wait. I'm a bit stubborn like that; want to go back to work as soon as possible."

"Do you have any change when that would be?"

"If you answered my calls or stayed in touch you would've known." Greg replied with sarcasm, now that he thought about it, he was quite angry about the whole thing. Mycroft sighed.

"I said I was sorry for that."

"Oh yeah you did, tell me, exactly when did I became a distraction?" Mycroft looked away, his dream Greg was stubborn and had a sarcastic streak; he just wondered how on earth he got that spot on…although it is a bit more intimidating than when he dreamt it, although he obviously wasn't going to be so hard on himself.

He looked back at Greg who was looking at him, waiting for an answer. Mycroft had no idea what to say, how does he explain the emotions in him, the turmoil that this man brings into his life? The way he would dream a lifetime with him, marriage and a child and all because of one moment, and now that he was sitting here, he just wants to tell him, tell him about the dream, ask him to make it real. But he can't, not without opening his entire soul and heart, and that is a vulnerability he can't afford. Not when things are so new, so complicated, so unsure.

He should start somewhere though, he has one in lifetime opportunity and he shouldn't waste it. This is the moment where he should at least try to build some kind of relationship with Gregory that is not based on his icy demeanour.

"You said…when you were shot…my eyes…you remembered me…you need to know…I remember you too…from that day…you became a distraction in that very moment."

Greg stared at Mycroft, his face in shock and utter disbelief. He remembers him? He wasn't the only one affected that day?

"Wait…what…you remembered?"

"You were talking and laughing with the cab driver, you were in your Constable uniform and we looked at each other and I don't know…it was like..."

"Hit by lighting?" Greg asked softly. Mycroft nodded.

"That meeting, back when we were introduced…"

"I recognised you." Mycroft replied. He recognise him, he had dreamt a life with him, and he would never ever forget that face.

"I recognised you too…I wanted to talk to you, but didn't know how to start without sounding like an idiot, I wanted to talk to you at the cab too, I regretted that, never got to say a word to you."

Mycroft smiled briefly and Greg was mesmerized, the man seemed so much younger when he smiles, it was beautiful

"I doubt I would have said anything, I was shy and after that moment, I would've tried to get away as soon as possible."

"You did…you're still shy and reserved aren't you?" Mycroft turned to Greg with open wonder and Greg knew he should fight for this man, six years and he know without a doubt that he will never get over this man. He is somehow signed, sealed and only the deliver part needs to happen. But he needs to take it slow, to take it easy, one wrong move and he will scare him away.

Mycroft looked away and finished his tea before placing the mug on the table.

"Dr Madison said you broke up."

"Yeah, we both knew it would never last, we were trying to push the loneliness away, both expecting different things from the future, we should've parted ways a long time ago, but we got stuck in the comfort."

"You wanted different things?" Mycroft ask, trying to keep the hopefulness out of his voice. He could tell that Sandy was a free spirit, a woman with no dreams about settling down anytime soon…

"Yeah…I wanted, still do, some stability, something permanent…but with the right person…Sandy knew it wasn't her, it couldn't be her."

"It's not her?" Mycroft asked his voice strong in hope but soft in fear.

"No."

"I called her, when you were shot, I didn't know she was your girlfriend, she saved my brother some weeks back and at that moment she was the only person I could think off. It was only later when she was with you that I realised…I felt so guilty, putting that pressure on her."

"You did the right thing, she is excellent at what she does, which is the only thing she wants to do, really, you know you think I saved your life with the shooting, but you saved my life right back by placing it in her hands. I think that makes even now." Greg smiled and Mycroft couldn't help but to smile back, it was as if the most awkwardness was dealt with, pushed out of the way, for a new conversation, one they somehow postponed but can't anymore.

Greg looked at him and knew he should take the risk; it will be up to him to make the move, to start this thing that has been simmering from the moment they met. He reached out and took Mycroft's hand.

Mycroft was startled and wanted to pull away, but somehow his fingers locked between Greg's he held on for life. His eyes was wide in shock, he licked his lips as he stared at their hands. Greg looked at Mycroft as he stared at their hands; he was staring as if he couldn't believe it was real, that it was happening. He thought it was strange, as if he was holding hands for the very first time in his life, yet the grasp spoke of familiarity as he imagined it before.

Greg leaned a bit closer.

"I looked for you." Mycroft looked up at Greg, the disbelief, the stunned wonder clear to see, he was still holding Greg's hand as if it was the only thing keeping him sane.

"You what?" His voice was so unsure, so small, that Greg stood up and pulled him closer.

"I couldn't forget you, so I tried to find you."

"How?"

"It's a long story…tell me first…did you own a handmade shirt with the initials MH sewn on it?"

Mycroft's mouth fell open; he did…but…how…his other hand grabbed onto Greg's shirt, the fingers grasping the material.

"I…how…"

"I found it, in my search for you….Long Acre right?"


	38. Chapter 38

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 16**

 **We rise from the ashes**

Mycroft followed Greg as if he was a lighthouse and he was a ship drifting in the storm, waiting to be guided home. He would follow him anywhere. Greg led him through the room towards his bedroom. The bed was big with shades of brown and copper, giving it an almost Tuscany or vintage feel, he felt comfortable immediately. When he heard the wardrobe door open with a squeak he looked back at Greg.

"How do you know about Long Acre, I stayed there for a total amount of five months?"

"I'm only a Detective on paper when I get back, but I was a Constable and Sergeant before you know…what do you think?" Greg asked with a smile, giving Mycroft permission to read him. He did and then slowly started to smile.

"The cabbie…you were friends…"

"Not close friends more acquaintances, his name was Johnnie, he moved with his family to Newcastle some years back."

"That was very impressive."

Greg smiled and moved most of his clothes away to find something in the back. Mycroft sighed as he thought back.

"I had to leave, by no choice of my own that same day we met. My stuff was removed in less than a day."

"Wow, I struggle to get a moving company to call me back in one day…but then those movers aren't your movers."

"Indeed."

Greg stopped moving for a minute and turned around.

"I went there a couple days after we met, the place was empty, and I couldn't believe how close I came."

"I'm sorry." Mycroft replied, not really knowing what else to say. Greg shrugged and removed the bag in the back of the closet.

"I found you, at last." He tried to joke as he pulled the bag out and handed it to Mycroft whose eyes were wide as he took it, his nimble fingers slowly unzipping the bag to find his shirt. A very old shirt, but in very good condition, there were some papers placed inside as well. He glanced at them and recognised them as a phone book pages, with the M, and H on it, all of the scratch out. His mouth fell open in shock, Greg tried to look for him, he went through an entire phonebook, no one has ever done something like that for him, no one even notice him on most days, and here this man, this remarkable man not only noticed him, he remembered him and search for him.

"Did you call all of these?" He managed to ask.

"Yeah…of course it all makes sense now…you won't be in a phonebook."

"You still tried, no one has ever tried." He slipped out, his fingers caressing the soft material, his Mom gave it to him, the day he told her he was accepted in the civil service, it was his favourite, the colour brought out his eyes, he felt good when he wore it. He always thought he lost in when the movers removed his stuff.

Greg watched the emotion cross his face, his heart breaking into a million pieces, what he meant no one has ever tried. He slowly sat on the bed next to him.

"The laundry delivered it, just when I was there at your place; I took it, pretending I needed it for a case, which wasn't a total lie, as it just wasn't an official case." Greg said, smiling softly at Mycroft who smiled back, still in wonder about the fact that someone did all that effort for him.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you all the way home; I actually had a thought where I should look for you…" Greg jumped up.

"Why didn't you? Can you imagine what would've happen?"

Oh God yes…dream it too. Mycroft looked at Greg and cleared his throat.

"I…I was kidnapped."

"What?" Greg asked, now he was the one with the unbelief and the shock. Mycroft look down his fingers curling around the edge of the plastic bag. He stood up and walked to the window, overlooking a small garden and the street. It was difficult to figure out, what to say and what to keep to back.

"That day, I came back from a mission, and I was feeling good, and then I saw you and it was as if I was high, I got home and took a shower I let my guard down…"

He looked back to Greg who was listening attentively but didn't say anything, waiting for Mycroft to finish.

"One of my colleagues, he was double agent, or traitor, he was going to sold us out, he took me, and another colleague, we were a group of four and he took all three of us, for information."

"God, that must have been awful, to be betrayed by someone you were supposed to trust."

"Oh, make no mistake Gregory, there is no real level of trust in that field of work, it is all a game, trying to outdo the other, but yes, the four of us was supposed to be close."

"Are you still close?"

"No, well, me and one is, the other is dead." Mycroft replied, overwhelmed by the feeling he sat back on the bed, close to Greg. Somehow Greg could anchor him, keep him from unravelling at the seams. Greg took his hand, giving him the moment he needed, yet trying to comfort him.

"How long were you held captive? How did you escape?"

"We didn't."

Greg's eyes widen the question clear.

"He held us for six days, we were rescued on the sixth, we were unconscious for three and tortured for the other two."

"Oh…"

"He had to move quickly, in the end, the rescue arrived but not before he got what he needed and killed my colleague, one of them."

"And you and your other colleague?"

"He left us to die and set the warehouse on fire, it was near Southbank, it caused quite a stir in the paper."

Greg dropped Mycroft's hand and Mycroft turned to him, Greg's face was set in a pain, in raw anguish.

"Gregory…?"

"Two mercenaries, shot dead, one man in pyjamas, two seriously injured, a man and woman…a room with a bathtub, a room with chain, tubes, electricity and liquid nitrogen?" Mycroft stared at Greg, both just staring at each other, the words registered, the implications making it known.

"How…Gregory…how…" Greg stared at him and took a breath, trying to control the pain, the knowledge that he came so close to lose Mycroft, he found him, without him knowing who he was, that it was the man he was looking for. He closed his eyes and remembered as they carried the two persons out of the building into the ambulance, they were unrecognisable. That was MH, on that stretcher being wheeled out in front of him, was Mycroft.

"Oh…no…it can't be…it can't be…" Greg mumbled and got up, starting to pace around the floor.

"Gregory?" Mycroft inquired the fear and confusion in his voice. Greg turned to him.

"I was part of the unit that got called out, I was clearing the warehouse, and I saw the room with chains, then a hallway and a door with a table and two chairs, and two doors opposite. Me and my partner was about to go in, when the fire department called for full evacuation."

Mycroft was staring back, Greg almost found him in that warehouse, with the bruises, the blisters, him lying on the ground with Elizabeth's naked form, his ripped shirt covering her.

"Oh Lord!" He cried out.

"It was you, you were in there, I was calling one number after the next and you were so close, I couldn't get to you…" Greg whimpered out, his voice shaking, his hand in his hair, combing through it again and again.

Mycroft couldn't believe it, if he didn't know better he would call it destiny, his path and Greg's was always meant to cross. He looked at the distraught man in front of him, the man who came so close yet so far, and there he was, a man who dreamed a life of the man in front of him.

Both affected by that meeting, both their lives changed in a single moment. He can't let the moment he has now pass. Without thinking he jumped up and did one of the most spontaneous things in his life. He hugged Greg who hugged him back. His one arm circling around him and both held on for dear life.

Weeks, days, hours, minutes passed, none of them was sure how long they stood there, both just breathing in deeply and savouring the fact that they were actually standing this close after all these years. It took a lifetime for them to get here. They slowly parted but didn't let go of each other.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to you." Greg stared into those blue eyes and knew it was all an act before, because there is no way, he could act these turbulent emotions in his eyes.

"It's okay. You got to me know." Mycroft softly replied, not breaking eye contact, if he had a choice, he never would. He would stare at this forever.

"You were hurt."

"Yes, and I healed, and although you won't understand this, but I was able to heal, because I had you." Greg frowned slightly.

"You're right, I don't understand." Mycroft smiled and leaned a bit closer.

"One day, I will tell you all of it." He will, but right now, fire-fighter Greg was his dream, his secret and real Gregory was standing in front of him, looking at him, that not even he could imagine this in his dream. He could imagine love and kindness, but this…this was utter and complete and unconditional devotion. He couldn't imagine it, because he never thought someone would look at him like that.

That is when he did the second most spontaneous thing in his life; he leaned closer and kissed him.


	39. Chapter 39

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 17**

 **I will always care about you.**

Greg stared to the ceiling, his eyes wide and his mouth couldn't keep the smile of his face, no matter how hard he tried, which he didn't. Nothing could keep this moment, this happiness out of his eyes. It was magical.

He closed his eyes as he thought back to the kiss.

It has been wonderful, the way their mouths were made for one another, the way they both clung to each other, too caught in the moment. They waited years for it, regardless of how fast the world was spinning around them. The kiss can only be described as a big bang, the birth of a whole new world, a beautiful new universe and they are in the centre of it. Without a word both knew they could stand like this and kiss one another for all their lives. If only that ringing would stop….

Mycroft's phone had started to ring and he didn't make any attempt to answer it but the real world was persistent….

Greg opened his eyes and made to get out of the bed. The phone call was about his brother, he was in some kind of trouble and Mycroft had to leave, he didn't wanted to, Greg could see the conflict in his face and wished they could've had just a few moments longer. He made a promise to keep in touch and to have dinner very soon. Greg couldn't wait. He wondered exactly what the situation with his brother is, but he also knew it didn't matter, siblings hardly ever cause harm, he and Mycroft will be okay, they will have dinner and it will be great.

Greg was still in a very good mood as he finished his shower and made his way to the kitchen. The phone buzzed just as he put the kettle on, he really hoped it was Mycroft.

Yes…

It was.

" **Good morning Gregory, I would like to apologise once again for my abrupt departure. I hope I could amend discus it further by the soonest opportunity. MH."**

Greg shook his head at the formality; he was indeed in love if he finds this so adorable.

" _Good morning to you, no worries, I understand. I can't wait to see and talk to you again, and since I am on leave my schedule is open, plus if it wasn't I would have cleared it for you. GL"_

It was true Greg realised, he would do anything to make sure he could see Mycroft again.

" **Splendid. If all goes well, I should be available tomorrow after noon. Would you like to go and have dinner with me? Around 7? MH."**

" _Sure? If you don't mind me asking, is everything okay? You said your brother needed some help, anything I can do to help? GL."_

Greg frowned, he meant it, he would like to help, and he hopes Mycroft's brother is not giving him too much grief and trouble.

" **You can ask, it is quite a long story, I will tell you some other days, let me just get through today and tomorrow. I will see you tomorrow. MH."**

" _Till tomorrow. GL"_

Greg wondered if he shouldn't have send a kiss or a hug, but thought against it, maybe the time isn't right, they will need to talk more.

Breakfast was some toast and scrambled eggs with bacon, he is quite efficient now with the one arm, it takes a bit longer, but he gets it done. It was on his second bite that he realised something. He was so caught up on the joy of yesterday and the kiss, that he only realised now, that Mycroft words were: ' _Dr Madison said you broke up._ ' That's why Mycroft was here, if Sandy didn't say anything, Mycroft wouldn't have been here…He picked up his phone again.

Sandy was at home, a few stacked boxes around her, as well as bags with some stuff. Her phone rang as she picked up a few books and put it down to answer.

"Greg! What a surprise, how are you?" She asked, very curious about yesterday and what happened between him and Mycroft.

"You told him, didn't you?" Greg replied straight out, not in the mood to play around. She sighed.

"Yes."

"You told him we broke up, why?"

"Because you were struggling to get hold of him, and needed to talk to him."

"I get that, but there is something else, you are too quick to push me to him, you are hiding something from me, what is going on?"

Sandy closed her eyes; he was right, she was leaving soon and had to do something. She had never been able to hide things from him for long; he was a good cop, with good instincts.

"It's a long story, let's meet for lunch at the park, we can get some subs and meet at twelve."

"And you will tell me everything?"

"Yes."

"Okay, see you later."

Greg was already sitting on the bench at the park, a bag with two subways and two cans of Coca-Cola next to him, he was ready for the talk, and he was ready to hear the truth. He needed it, he couldn't move on if there was still some unfinished business. The park was beautiful, filled with families and dogs and people. He wanted that, for the first time in his life, he thought that he might someday have that, one day soon.

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" Greg turned to his left to watch Sandy sitting down next to him.

"Yeah, it is." He replied handing her the bag to take out the food.

"Oh good! I am starving."

He watches her as she took out her food from the bag and he did the same.

"So how did it go yesterday?" She finally asks as she bit into her food, waiting for him to break the ice.

"Revealing...it has been a very good conversation, we discussed a lot of stuff, discovered we both had the same haunting experience if I can put it like that, all those years ago. I didn't forget him, he didn't forget me, and we nearly met a few days after that too…but that's his story to tell. Greg wanted to tell her about that time at the warehouse, but didn't want to tell about Mycroft's kidnapping and torture, he didn't think Mycroft would appreciate it. He never told anyone else about it, and Greg wasn't going to be the one to tell.

"There's more isn't there?" Sandy asked after Greg answered and looked away into the distance.

"Yeah…"

"Well the important thing is you talked, you have found one another now, and things can only get better now."

"That's true." They ate in silence, the atmosphere light and calm. Greg was the first to finished and looked at her.

"Thank you, for what you did."

"It has been my pleasure."

"Why did you do it though? And don't tell me that destiny and love story…what is the real reason?"

"I'm leaving."

"What?"

"I'm leaving and I didn't want to leave, knowing you were alone, it was eating away at you, making you depressed and I couldn't allow it."

"I don't understand."

"Yes you do, we were good, and I know in your own way you love me, but not like him."

"Okay, I get that, you said it and even though you are right, it doesn't mean you have to leave."

"I was always going to leave. We talked about this before, we weren't meant to be, just close friends, you met me just after I came back from a tour on the Mercy ships, and I was always going to go back to it, but then we started to date and one month became two, then six, then a year…and then all of sudden two years have passed. I have never felt so alive in my life than when I was on those boats, this here has been great, but the routine, the every cycle day after day wasn't, isn't, for me. I wanted to go back, but I couldn't just pick up and leave, and I didn't know how to talk to you about it without causing pain to us both. Then Mycroft happened…we both knew…that day you told me the story, that thing between us had changed…we knew it, but didn't talk about it…"

"And then the shooting."

"Yeah…and he left, and you became depressed and I could see how it was bothering you, I couldn't leave without knowing you were going to be okay. I may not be your Mycroft, and you are not mine, but I still love and care for you."

"I do love you, you know." Greg was holding her hand tightly, his eyes filled with emotion. She smiled, trying to keep from crying.

"Yeah. I know. I love you too."

"You're my rock Sands, I mean it…these past few years, you kept me grounded."

"Likewise, we have grown so much these past few years, we have become stronger."

Both clenched their hands and looked out over the small pond, the ducks were lazing around the water, every now and then a child would go closer and smile and point at them.

"So….is it too soon to ask you how he kisses?" Sandy asks a smile on her lips looking at him trying to break the tension.

"Sands!" Greg exclaimed as a blush spread on his cheeks. She laughed.

"That good huh…"

Greg looked away.

"Yeah…"

"Did you just kiss…"

"Yes…thank you…"

"Oh well….so what happened, and when are you seeing him again?"

"His phone rang, he had to go, his brother is in trouble, but we are having dinner tomorrow, we are going to take it slow."

"Oh, poor him, I feel so sorry for him, with his brother, Sherlock is addicted to drugs, he nearly overdosed back then, I get the feeling Mycroft is carrying that all on his own."

Greg was surprised, that wasn't good. Drugs…he really hoped Mycroft would confide in him and together they can try to help him.

"It will be okay, it will work out." Greg replied, and he meant it. He just knows things will work out. Sandy smiled and nodded.

"Yeah…but I sincerely doubt you are taking it slow…seriously…the way you two feel about each other…" Sandy replied smiling at him. Greg waved his hand as if to wave her away. A blush still high on his face.

"Neither one of us wants to mess it up, slow is good."


	40. Chapter 40

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 18**

 **As the wind changes**

Mycroft watched his little brother sleeping, he neglected to take care of his wound and before it was properly healed, decided on an experiment that resulted in the Thames, the wound got open and it got infected. On top of that he was too high to realise it. Instead of another hospital, Mycroft decided to bring him to his home, so he could personally look after him. So far, Sherlock's condition had improved, the antibiotics were working, and he was no longer high.

The strange part was that Sherlock himself called Mycroft, to let him know he needed help, that hardly ever happened.

Mycroft was tired; he has been sitting next to his brother since the moment he was brought in there the previous evening. It was around lunch time, and so far he hasn't woken up. Mycroft wasn't worried; he knew that Sherlock's body needed the rest. He was reading the newspaper, then checked up on his emails, he even texted Gregory this morning. Just thinking about him, brought a smile to his face.

He still found it difficult to believe that yesterday happened, that they talked, that they kissed, that they will see each other again.

"It better not be me that put that ridiculous smile on her face." Mycroft turned to the bed, Sherlock was awake and lucid, looking much better.

"You weren't, although, I am happy to see you awake. How are you feeling?"

"Better." They sat there in silence, both not sure how to start speaking without it becoming a fight or quarrel.

Mycroft pointed to the small tray next to the bed.

"Here's some water, fruit and a few ginger nuts, if you feel like eating."

"Thanks." Sherlock replied and picked up a biscuit. He looked up towards Mycroft who was still sitting in his chair, relaxed as he could be, the worry lines were there, the tiredness in his eyes, his posture, but there was something about him, that was calming, peaceful.

"Aren't you going to yell at me for this?"

"No."

That was so strange and weird. "Why not?"

Mycroft turned to him. "Do you want me too?"

Sherlock shook his head. "So what put that smile on your face?"

"Whom?" Mycroft corrected.

Sherlock nearly dropped the biscuit as she stared at his brother, he couldn't remember the last time his brother had a boyfriend, or someone he was interested in. With a shock he realised it was more than seven years ago, since before he joined the civil service, and most certainly there was nothing since his kidnapping a few years ago. He still remembered the way his brother clutched him tight as he cried.

"Mycroft?" He softly asks and Mycroft turned to him. He tilted his head slightly and Sherlock knew he could go ahead.

"What happened while you were in your coma?"

Mycroft mouth fell open in shock; he didn't expect his brother to ask that, not when there was fresh deducing to be done about his happiness. He took a deep breath and turned in the chair so his focus on Sherlock.

"I had a dream…it felt so real Sherlock, it was real to me."

"That is not uncommon you know, to dream while in a comatose state."

"I know, but this…our minds is different than the rest Sherlock, my mind took one encounter I had the day I was kidnapped and built a life around it, a life to keep me safe from the trauma of the torture and the drugs and the coma." Mycroft looked away as memories crossed his mind. Sherlock couldn't stop looking at his brother, he looked so different in that moment, it wasn't the brain talking, it was the heart, and he was his brother as he remembered from childhood.

"Was it a good dream?"

Mycroft nodded.

"The best, I would've stayed there gladly forever if needed. I was so happy, you were happy."

"You had a partner?"

Mycroft nodded again and laughed softly. "Yeah, he was wonderful."

Mycroft didn't feel like telling him everything, the marriage, the child, the happiness, some things were his, and his alone, his secret treasure.

"You met him that day?"

"I was on my way home from a mission took a cab and he was standing in the street, he was a Constable, so handsome in his uniform and we look at each other, and I can't explain it, not with words…"

"You can…but then you have to use the words you never wanted to…" Sherlock replied and from the look his brother gave him, he knew he was right, he would use words like fate, meant to be, sentimental words, and the Holmes brothers are not use to words like that.

"He imprinted somehow on my mind, that brown eyes…it was the only happy moment before the torture, before the pain, and in the coma my mind reverted back to that moment, and used him to keep my mind safe."

"And when you woke up, he was gone."

Mycroft nodded again. "The life I dreamt, I kept so far back in my mind Sherlock, and here it was exposed to me, made real to me as if to play a prank on myself. I tried to move on, but even after all these years, I couldn't forget him"

"And you met him again recently?"

"Yes. He was a Sergeant when we met a few months ago; he saved my life, literally."

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked intrigued, he knows his brother's job is dangerous but so far could ignore that.

"He was shot with the bullets that were meant for me." Sherlock stared at Mycroft in disbelief, his brother nearly died? He was in the way of someone's gun and a stranger jumped in the way? A man that his brother was clearly in love with saved him? He looked at Mycroft as if seeing him for the first time in a long time, he could see the stress of the job, the commitment to his role, he could see the softening in the eyes when he mentions this man, the hint of caring and longing for a life in the undertone of his voice, whoever this man was, he had Mycroft wrapped around his finger.

"Is he okay?"

"He made it, he will be off from work for a while and has intensive therapy ahead, and one bullet went right through his upper chest, the other lodge itself in his scapula bone. Gregory will be okay."

"Gregory…" Sherlock rolled the name over his tongue each letter to the full effect, he got a stare from his brother and Sherlock smiled.

"Wow, how the mighty has fallen, I guess global warming isn't a myth, it just walks around by the name of Gregory…."

"Oh away with you…" Mycroft retaliated but there were no malice in his voice, just fondness and an expiration of dealing with his sibling for a long time now.

"When are you seeing him again?"

"Tomorrow, I asked him out for dinner."

"Oh what should you wear?" Sherlock mocked Mycroft with an over serious face.

"Funny." Mycroft replied and looked away.

"There's more…what is it…" Sherlock asked his face real serious and genuine. Mycroft looked at him and wondered just how crazy he would sound.

"He didn't forget me…he tried to find me…search the whole 'M' and 'H' in the phonebook. The impact he had on me, I had on him, it has never happened before Sherlock, how come he didn't forget me?" The silent, 'everyone does' was heard, and Sherlock couldn't figure out what to say to him. How does he comfort his brother, when Mycroft was always the one comforting?

"Why didn't you ever tell me this?"

"What?"

"About your trauma, the dream, the torture, you never talk about it."

"Well, it isn't the greatest way to start a conversation, even for us." Mycroft retorted. Sherlock shrugged."Yeah well, I gave you a lot of grief, and you kind of how quite a plate full already."

"My plate will never be too full for you Sherlock. Never."

"I didn't OD on purpose." Sherlock said with a soft voice.

Mycroft leaned closer and took his brother's hand.

"Listen Sherlock, we all have our demons, our 'let's not talk about it' moments, but you need to know, that I will never think any less of you, will never push you away. Even in my dream…you were the first to meet him, the first to know about him, the only one I trust to talk about it, I never told anyone about this, and just like now, you are the first to know about him, to meet him for real, if you'd like…"

Sherlock looked at their intertwined hands and felt like a little child, seeking his brother to tell him the world will be okay, that everything will work out.

"Well, he is a cop…can't be too boring then…." Mycroft smiled, that is Sherlock's way of saying he would like to meet him, and he would be okay with it.

"He has just been promoted to a Detective Inspector at the Yard."

"Scotland Yard?" Sherlock's interest just picked up more.

"Yeah…."

"Can he give me cases?"

"No Sherlock."

"Please?"

"No."

"I'll ask him."

"Sherlock, you can't go play detective and be high on drugs, it has to be one or the other…."

"Why?"

"Do you think a jury in their right mind would take into account the evidence of a drug addict?"

"But people are idiots and most certainly not in their right mind."

"Still no, now would you like some tea?"

When Mycroft left the room to go get the tea, Sherlock places his hands under his chin….a plan is forming….


	41. Chapter 41

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 19**

 **When you found your 'somebody'**

Greg woke up with a smile on his face, he got out of bed with a spring in his step…today…is the day…

He and Mycroft will go on a date…a proper date. After the kiss and the past few days, he couldn't wait to be with Mycroft again, he wanted to be around that man, for as long as he can. He just felt so at home with him, as if it was meant to be, which it was, nothing can persuade him otherwise. Mycroft was his, and he was Mycroft's.

Still happy he put a cd on and then went on to make some breakfast, still a bit limited by his arm, he only ate some cereal, plus his stomach is occupied by butterflies so the whole big breakfast thing isn't going down so well.

After breakfast he looked around his place, he should really start to clean it up, a bit. Mycroft didn't say anything the other day, which meant one of two things; one, he was too distracted and didn't notice, or two he was polite, either way, both counted in his favour, but it didn't mean he shouldn't make an attempt. One arm or not. You don't need two hands to carry a mug to the kitchen.

He was nearly done and the place looked much better when one of his favourite songs came up. He looked towards the radio, then his arm.

"Hmmm. Probably." He uttered as he tried to think whether he would still be able to do 'air guitar'. Well one way to find out. He started the song again and slowly walked around the space, his hands up.

" _I want somebody who cares, for me passionately…."_ As he started to sing, his hands struck invisible strings and notes. He looked towards the sofa and his mind conquered up a image of Mycroft. Greg started to sing louder.

" _With every thought and with every breath, someone who'll help me see things…"_ His eyes were locked on the image of Mycroft who was smiling at him, just like he did after they kissed, eyes sparkling with wonder.

" _In a different light, all the things I detest, I will almost like. I don't want to be tied, to anyone's strings…"_ He sang that part softer, because he actually would like to be tied to Mycroft's strings, his heart strings especially, just the way Mycroft is tied to his.

" _I'm carefully trying to steer clear of those things, but when I'm asleep, I want somebody, who will put their arms around me, and kiss me tenderly…you Mycroft, only you….just you."_ He stopped playing and imagined himself saying those words to Mycroft. Just him. No one else, ever again.

A slight frown crossed his forehead, why on earth are they taking it slow? Shrugging he went on with his duties.

By two pm, the place was clean; Greg got out of the shower and was eyeing his wardrobe. What is he supposed to wear? Where are they going? A posh place? Fish and chips on the Thames? How is he supposed to dress properly? Smart casual, was he supposed to hire a tux? God he hoped not, he is not really bathing in money, he can hardly afford this place…He sat down on the bed. Mycroft has money, you can see it, it pours down him, and whenever he walks into a room…he shouldn't get negative. On top of that, he hasn't heard anything from Mycroft all day. He wanted to talk to Mycroft he had some very important things on his mind, and none of them is financially related. Making his mind up, he picked up his phone and dialled.

Mycroft and Sherlock was sitting at the small table, both with bowls of breakfast, Oatmeal, as Mycroft liked it as well and Sherlock still too ill to eat heavy foods, and for some reason both of them can handle Oatmeal. Their mom used to make it for them and sometimes she would place a pinch of cinnamon in for taste. Mycroft still does it, and Sherlock is eating it without a snarky comment, however, since their discussion yesterday, Sherlock has been oddly, cooperative…

"Shall I leave today?" Sherlock asked softly. Mycroft looked surprised.

"Why would you want to do that?"

"You have your date tonight…" Mycroft blushed at that, but composed himself quickly.

"Stay, please, as long as you would like, besides we are taking it slow, so don't worry, I'll be back tonight."

Sherlock took the last bite of the oatmeal before he glanced at his brother.

"Will you introduce us?"

Mycroft stared at Sherlock; his eyes open with the joy that Sherlock would want to meet him. Before he could reply, Sherlock went on.

"It's just, you said I was the first to meet him in your dream, and I was thinking that I want to be the first to meet him in real life too."

"I'd love that Sherlock. I would love for you to meet Gregory."

With that settled they finished their tea and Mycroft cleaned up while Sherlock watched him.

"Oh Sherlock, I know I'm going out tonight, but I need to go this morning too, I need to do something." Mycroft refused to look at him as he talk and Sherlock stared at his brother, allowing the pieces to fall in place.

"You're going to the museum, to say goodbye to your dream Greg aren't you?"

"Sherlock."

"I'm right aren't I, you allowed this dream to shape you and be your companion all these years, and now that you found him, you don't need it to be your crutch any more."

Mycroft eyed his brother and then realization hit. Sherlock dreamt of someone too, he may not have a face yet, but he dreams of someone too.

"Yes, because I have realised that when we dream strong enough and long enough that somehow the universe hears, and put that person on our path."

Sherlock looked up at him, the hope in his eyes.

"Do you honestly think so?"

"Yes. After all I am exhibit one…" He smiled shyly at his brother and Sherlock smiled back. Mycroft knew that this moment will always be one of the fondest memories that he has of his brother.

"Well go say goodbye; I need to write down some formulas….chow…" With that their moment was gone and Mycroft stood alone in the kitchen. He didn't care.

An hour later Sherlock was alone in the house, going through his brother's papers and then he discovered in his brother's wardrobe a shirt and some papers, he went through it and discovered the phone papers…" _He looked for me Sherlock_." Sherlock remembered that his brother said that this Gregory was trying to find him, and he was quite impressed, if a man goes through all the 'M' and 'H' in a phonebook Sherlock had to respect that. He knew Mycroft was always alone and yet someone saw him once, and wanted to again. He smiled at the sight, on top of that he is a cop….with cases and murders…it's like winning the Lotto and the Powerball in one. Somewhere in the room a phone started ringing. Sherlock looked up to see Mycroft's mobile on the dresser, he glanced at the name. 'Gregory' Well well well…Christmas came early!

"Gregory…" He answered in a smooth tone...

Greg looked at the phone; it was the right number, but not the right voice.

"Eeh hi, I'm sorry I'm looking for Mycroft? I thought this is his private number."

"Yes it is, he left his phone here, and you are Gregory, his date tonight…." Sherlock's smoothing voice was loud over the phone and Greg felt a little unsure of how to proceed.

"You are?" Greg asked, he suspected it was Sherlock, his brother but couldn't know for sure.

"I'm his eternal condemnation…Gregory…." Sherlock rolled his name just as last night.

"Sherlock." Greg replied, already with an exasperation that most certainly will follow him for a long time.

"Hmmm did my dear brother talk about me?" Sherlock replied, enjoying this conversation.

"Yes, he was very worried about you, how are you? " Sherlock smiled fell from his face, not only did Mycroft allowed his emotion to show on his face, Gregory was also instantly concerned about him, he genuinely cared. Oh his brother went got himself a totally emotionally functional man…just like their dad. Oh how transparent. He won't make the same mistake…..

"I'm fine thank you."

"That's good, listen Sherlock, I was wondering if I can talk to Mycroft please?" Greg asked getting to the point.

"He is not here at the moment."

"Oh…do you perhaps know where he is, I need to speak to him, quite urgently, before tonight if possible."

Sherlock frowned, this doesn't sound good.

"Listen if you are going to cancel…"

"No…the opposite actually, listen Sherlock, I really need to tell him something, okay, can you please just tell me when he will be back or where is he?"

"You will owe me." Sherlock replied, the gleam back in his eyes, he knows exactly what Greg wants to tell Mycroft, the man is so easy to read, even over a phone, plus he can set things in motion, the man may be on leave, but he will be back eventually.

"Yeah, I know, I will take it. Where's Mycroft?"

"The museum…"

"Which one?"

"You're the detective…"

"Sherlock!" Greg sounded impatient and Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"It has very old specimens…like those wrapped in bandages on movies…have fun Inspector…" Without waiting for a reply, Sherlock hang up the phone. He can't make it too easy.

Greg stared at the phone in frustration, not even a ten minute conversation, how the hell does Mycroft do it….bandages…movies…He closed his eyes. Of course….Mummies…The British museum. He had no idea how much time he has left so he dressed as quickly as possible and made his way out to the museum. He had to make it.

Mycroft sat in his usual place, the small bench opposite Sobek. Sherlock was right, he came to say goodbye, he doesn't need the dream any more, he has the real thing now, the real person.

"Told you it will all work out." Mycroft looked up to see firefighter Greg on the other side of the room, his arms resting on the glass in top of the crocodile, his helmet and to Mycroft's surprise, his cane on top of the glass.

"You didn't say that, you said Sobek calms me." Mycroft answered in his mind, the whole thing playing off in his Mind Palace. Greg nodded.

"True, yet here you are, calm and happy. Guess the real me is a bit more exciting than the dream me."

"You are one and the same."

"Yes, we are, but Gregory is his own stubborn person, you gave me my persona."

"I deduced it." Greg smirked.

"You made me, what you needed to be in that moment to survive, Gregory is like that, he is strong, and courageous and brave and all those wonderful things, and he loves you, and you love him. You know they say when people are supposed to meet, their souls will arrange a meeting long before. It took you six years, nearly seven, but it happened, and Sherlock is happy for you."

"Yes he is." Mycroft looked down, a smile on his mouth, Sherlock is.

"So I guess this is goodbye." Firefighter Greg said as he straightened up.

"Yes. It is. I'm sorry." Mycroft replied.

"Don't worry about it, I will still be in some very small room in your Mind Palace, as most of the rooms are about to be filled with new adventures, new stories."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." They stood there in the room, both smiling at each other as they said goodbye, firefighter Greg was slowly becoming more transparent when he held up his finger, tilted his head and smiled.

"As I said, souls collided…" Then he disappeared. Mycroft frowned "what did he mean?"

"Mycroft?"

Mycroft eyes shot open and there in front of him stood Gregory, his hair messy and shirt half tucked, the jeans rolled at the bottom, with his All Stars. He dressed in a hurry. Mycroft looked towards his face and was mesmerized by the smile.

"Gregory?"

"I called your phone, Sherlock answered…he seemed like quite the character but he told me you would be here."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I just had an epiphany, this morning while cleaning."

"An epiphany?"

"Yeah. About us." Mycroft started to breath faster.

"And…?" He slowly asked, not trusting his legs to stand up.

"I don't want to take it slow with you."

"What?"

"The only thing I want to take slow, is the moments with you, the world can rush by on his own, as long as the moments with you are slow. I realised that when you discover the reason – which is you – to live, to change your entire view of the world, when at one time, you couldn't imagine settling down, now you crave the domestic life with every fibre in your body. I want it all, I can't wait for the rest of my life to start, because it will be with you, I can't wait to have the life I only dreamed about, because I did. I just needed you to see that. When I imagined my life these past six years, you were somehow in there, smack in the middle like you belonged there. And now that I found you, there's no way I'm going take it slow, except the moments with you, so I can treasure it. I came here to tell you that you are it for me, and I would right here, right now, promise you my all, my time, my commitment, my heart, body and soul till the day that I die. I want us to walk out of here, knowing that the together is the only way we will stay, the only way we can breathe freely, and that the only way forward is together."

Mycroft couldn't only stare at him as his eyes filled with tears and he didn't even try to hide it. His eyes locked with Greg and he could only nod. With whisperings of 'me too'. 'Together.'

Greg stepped closer to Mycroft and cupped his cheek with his free hand. Mycroft lifted his hand over Greg's, staring in his eyes.

"So me an you?"

"Me and you. Always."

Greg pulled Mycroft up and held him close. Mycroft's hands wrapped around his chest, his head buried in his neck. Yes. Forever. No dream can match this moment, and no dream ever will. He finally don't want to go back to sleep any more.

 _(Somebody – Depeche Mode – Some great Reward - 1984)_


	42. Chapter 42

**Our souls collided before we met**

 **Part 3**

 **Chapter 20**

 **At the beginning with you**

" _No one told me I was going to find you_

 _Unexpected what you did to my heart_

 _When I lost hope, you were there to remind me_

 _This is the start."_ *

Mycroft eyes were fixed on the scene in front of him, down below, in the garden outside a small kid was running around the grass, he had a few linen cloths wrapped around him to look like a Mummy, his laughter loud so that Mycroft could hear him upstairs. The best part was he was chasing Sherlock, who pretended that he was being chased by an evil mummy, crying a fake 'help help' to whoever would hear. His dad was standing near the edge egging his grandson on, to go faster. Earlier today, Sherlock had to show him magic tricks and called Uncle Sherlock the greatest ever, much to Sherlock's delight. A real proud uncle. It was a sight he never thought possible, one he never thought he would materialised, and yet here they were.

They…he and Gregory and their son.

A family.

He gave a wistful smile, tracing the ring around his finger before it settled on his watch, clutching it tight, making sure it was there. It is a common known fact that there aren't really clocks or time in a dream, and if he can feel his watch, see the clock then he knows, this is real.

"Yes Love, it is real, it is all real." Mycroft turned to the door to watch his par…no husband walking in the room, the suit looking spectacular on his form. To Greg's dismay and Mycroft's pleasure, Greg was starting to become a bit grey…just on his sides and here and there, he insisted on colouring yet, but Mycroft banned him from it, saying he loves it, it looks like silver lighting and he finds it delectable.

"I still find it unbelievable." He answered.

"Yeah, well, I stepped on a Lego this morning…that was very real." Mycroft laughed softly, he remembered, Greg tried very had no to wake the sleeping boy with his creative vocabulary.

"My poor husband."

"Yeah, joke all you want…just hope it isn't you."

"Won't be, I wear this amazing thing called slippers." Greg rolled his eyes and stood next to Mycroft at the window.

"I love Mummy, but you do know that she can talk without breathing right, one shot through multiple subjects."

"Yes, she has quite the talent." Mycroft replied and looked at the scene again, his face soft, eyes alight and a small smile on his lips.

"You look happy, not having any second thoughts about marrying me?" Greg joked but Mycroft turned to him, his face all serious.

"Don't joke like that, I would never ever have any second doubts about you or this, I never wanted anything more than this in my life." Greg pulled Mycroft so he was facing him, his hands on his cheek.

"Me too Love. Me too, and although I can't compete with a dream I can try to be there every step of the way.

"You my dearest are better than any dream I can dream, and I've tried…" Mycroft joked back but they both ended up sniffling.

"Our life together, the one we have I wouldn't change it for anything, I only truly woke up, when I met you, and started to live, when our paths crossed as second time." Greg didn't say anything instead he pulled Mycroft into a hug.

"Same here. I still can't believe that I found you. I was at a point of giving up and then there you stood three-piece suit and all…"

"I still try to stay awake when we go to sleep, just so I don't miss a thing. I don't want to miss a single moment with you."

They stayed like that a couple minutes before they parted. Greg pulled Mycroft in for a kiss. After all this time, their lips fitted perfectly, and somehow it still felt brand new.

"Come on, we should get back downstairs, they will wonder where we went."

Mycroft voiced and Greg smirked.

"Well, maybe we should unravel your shirt a bit…the hair…"

Mycroft blushed.

"You're a fire ball today."

"Yeah…I got married…"

Laughing they made their way to the door, only to open it to a very stern woman, dressed in a beautiful satin dress, her hair styled neatly with a small diamond tiara on top the brown curls. Her perfectly coloured eyes were narrowed, the lipstick mouth in a pout.

Both men froze.

"Anthea…." Mycroft let out.

"I've been working for you for years now, and I am very good at my job, even with the two stubborn men like you."

They glanced at each other.

"Now…you asked me to arrange this, so far we are ten minutes behind, the cake needs to be cut, the speeches need to be made, hopefully before the open bar is empty, oh and your parents want you two to open the dance floor so they can show off their new line dancing skills after that."

Both men eyes widen at that and held out their hands.

"No, not that Anthea, keep them away." She gave a small smirk.

"I make no promises; after all, they are a lot more cooperative than you two."

"We will cooperate…" Greg defended and Mycroft nodded.

"Completely, see, we are going downstairs…"

"Good." She nodded and started to walk down the hallway.

Greg mumbled. "Jeez, you are scary."

Anthea stopped and turned around.

"Yes, I am, how kind of you to notice." And then to the men's surprise she winked. Greg gave Mycroft a smile, yes he did well in appointing her in his life as a bodyguard, aka personal assistant. It is not every day a man like Mycroft comes along and save an agent's career the way he did.

Once in the hallway they stopped. Greg and Mycroft reached for each other's hand.

"Time to face the music." Greg voiced.

"I will feel better after Sherlock's speech." Mycroft stated.

"Me too, can't believe no one knows what he is going to say." Greg squeezed Mycroft's hand.

"I know, none of my bugs worked…" Mycroft replied and squeezed back. Greg only shook his head, in all his years, these two brothers continue to amaze him.

"Are you two ready?" Anthea asked before she opened the doors, her hands on each handle.

They looked at each other and replied at the same time.

"Yes."

" _Important encounters are planned by the souls_

 _Long before the bodies see each other."_

 _Paulo Coelho_

(At the beginning - Anastasia the Disney's movie – Richard Marx & Donna Lewis – 1997)

Note from authors

To everyone who took time out of their busy schedules and time to read this, and to follow us through this adventure. Thank you. Thank you very much for everything, every comment and every kudo, we appreciate it. Hope you will remember this and one day read it again and feel the joy all over again.


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